All right, so.

Pretty sure I took a wrong turn somewhere.

[This wasn't the Incipisphere. This sure as fuck wasn't anywhere on the grid either. His glasses were pure fuzz with nothing to work with. He had to shut them off. Which was a first in...in a really long time.

So he's got his phone set up on video and Dirk Strider is looking a little disgruntled. As much as Dirk Strider could look anyway.]

This isn't where I'm supposed to be. And considering I ain't got shit for connection on these babies - [Points to the shades] - I'm gonna assume I'm somewhere completely new. Somewhere even the game doesn't know shit about.

Which is fine, really. Totally fine. It's cool to snap me up when I'm busy, you know, saving lives and knocking out bitches, that's cool- really, it is. I'm not mad. And hey, being dunked into some alien tank and having something shoved down my throat isn't the worst thing someone's tried to do to me in my sleep. I won't take it personally.

[He takes a slow breath and tips his head up. Then points. His hair, which is so usually well maintained, is currently shoved under this incredibly awesome hat.]

But I'm not fucking ready to wear hats all the god damn time. You can't just ruin a guy's hair and not provide proper shit to fix it up after. That's just cruel. Everyone's gonna think I'm some backwoods punkass without a clue in the world. You call that a first impression? I call it a national disaster waiting to happen. And I got a feeling Obama isn't on this flight so everything's gonna go to hell in a dainty hand-bag. Not even a nice one. Just a frumpy ass thrift store one with fake leather and horrible flower designs on the straps.

[The utter shame he has done to the Strider household name. Dirk lets out a huge sigh and slumps in the chair, folding an arm over the back. He tips his head to the side and peers through his glasses at the camera.]

So this is a live broadcast. Haven't done something like this in a while. Lots of people out there. Judging from the amount of rooms you got on this sucker, I'd say there's a lot more people than I've ever seen all together at one place. So. How about some introductions?

Name's Dirk Strider. I got a knack for robotics, philosophy, and a bit of sewing. I like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain.

[OOC: Dirk will probably be responding via text. In which case he usually types in this color. If that's obnoxious or hard to read, just let me know and I'll turn it off for you. This goes for all future posts as well.]

[Sma's been around, quietly keeping track of things and mostly being an observer of stuff. Her curiosity on a subject is now up, so have a video post.]

Hello, Tranquility.

So, I've been through a jump now as a resident and not a new arrival, and I've been watching things and—actually, let me give some context.

Where I come from, a ship this size would have what we call a Mind. It's an artificial intelligence that runs at a considerably higher rate of speed than the average human-form sentient. Some like to talk to the residents directly, and others create humanoid avatars for interactions. They've got interests, personalities, and a predilection for interesting names, like the Very Little Gravitas Indeed and the What Are the Civilian Applications?.

Our settlements are run by Minds as well. We've also got what we call drones, which are human-equivalent sentient AIs, operating independently of Minds. We also have sub-sentient AI for menial tasks—maintenance, that sort of thing.

So there's the context. What I'm wondering is—does the Tranquility have any kind of AI at work here? And are any of my fellow-passengers familiar with AI technology?

[When the video feed starts up, Laughing Beauty looks to the camera nervously, still unsure if making this kind of request was the best to do publicly. But what choice did she have? LB knew she couldn't do this herself.]

Hey, uh -- heheheh -- hi.

[Yes, this was already getting off to a smooth start. LB gives the camera an awkward smile, before continuing.]

There's a lot of people here who can fix things... right? So, if anyone had any spare time, I was wondering if they wanted to try to fix-- [She swivels her communicator around, in a blur, until it focuses on a broken down, unoccupied Octopus Suit. With it occasionally sparking and one of it's tentacles broken apart, it's certainly seen better days, to say the least.]

I, uh... [The camera focuses on her face, deep in thought as she tries to think of a convincing lie as to how her suit got broken in the first place. After a while, however, she glances away from the camera.] Ah, fuck it, I broke it in a fight. But it's okay! Heehee! I... don't think I'll have to worry about that person anymore.

[Which is her roundabout way of saying that she hadn't seen Zer0, since after the fight, and she was pretty sure she killed him (even if that wasn't actually the case). It was a little sad, because he seemed like someone she could be friends with, but it seemed that wasn't the case. Regardless, she's not admitting to anything.

As she scratches her head and generally looks uncomfortable, it might be easy to tell that she's possibly hiding something.]

A-anyway, I'm not sure what I can offer anyone in return, but I guess we can discuss that later.

[After that, she had intended to turn her communicator off, but there was another burning question on her mind, lately. For this inquiry, she hesitates even longer, before finally spitting it out.]

Also... does anyone know if the masks give you any power or benefits? Hahaha? For a while, I had a bad feeling about them, but lately? I've been wondering if maybe I've been thinking of things in the wrong way.

[LB positions her deceptively cute mask next to her face, mimicking the expression with a smile.]

Besides, I'm no stranger to wearing things that are unsettling.

But - ah - that's all, I guess. Eeheeheeheehee... thanks in advance.


[[I've got it planned out for Peter Parker to fix the suit, but people are still welcome to inquire about it!]]

[ there's the sound of a direwolf howling, unapologetic in his grief, and even the soft hushing murmur that comes after doesn't quite temper it, only reduces it to a low keening whine. there's a pause that stretches, and robb clears his throat more than once, trying to find the words. when he does speak he sounds tired, anger burning slow and hot under exhaustion but finally, finally, he speaks. ]

The lady Sansa Stark, who many called Alayne Stone, has gone.

[ there's a breath, as if robb means to say more, but instead he simply cuts the feed. ]

<sub>[ It's not long after these interactions that Jake decides to announce himself to the network. Video on with his mask placed over his face in pure spite, this is probably about the third time he's put it on. It doesn't look like the one in his icon, but rather it resembles this guy, Lord English. For the longest time, Jake was scared to touch the mask, overly cautious of how it got there and why it kept watching him. Eventually, though, he found the shape and color fascinating, and since he put it on the first time after the jump, he refuses to put it in an area out of his reach.

Given his series has a lot of people dying in it, it really isn't going to be long before he starts seeing a whole heap of ghosts. Hoards of them. Along with that, he'll also hallucinate how they all died. Some of them he knows, some of them he doesn't know. For now, though, he feels fine and completely content in his mask, finding it hard to take off. Literally. He's recording from his bed, arms outstretched as he holds the device in front of him. His voice is muffled from behind the mask, but he speaks nonetheless. ]</sub>

See? There isn't anything wrong with this. It was exciting putting it on, almost like a little adventure! Matter of fact, it makes me feel comforted in a way. I'm not going to take it off. You honestly cannot make me! Hah! It's a nice addition to my wardrobe, I believe.

_{[ He brushes his fingertips along the side of it, a crooked smile appearing on his face. ]}

Now which one of you ladies or gents would be up for a game of cards?
Or possibly billiards. Do we have a billiards table about this craft may chance?

_{[ ooc; jake's negative traits which he usually covers up that are going to be enhanced are bitterness, resentment, selfishness, stubbornness, vulgarity, forwardness, greed and anger. 8| have fun with that, guys. ]}

My name is Mattie Ross. I have discovered that there are quite a number of children here, and many do not seem to have parents or families to see to their proper education. So beginning this week, I am inviting any children who would like to join me to attend religious service on Sunday - Seventh Day - morning before the regular service, and on Third Day evening as well. We will meet in the Oxygen Gardens, and Third Day meeting will be followed by lessons in reading, arithmetic, and common skills. I will teach hymns and psalms to anyone who wishes to learn.

I think we shall tell stories as well.

Please bring books if you have them.

Bran Stark, I hope you will come as we discussed and share your hymns and stories as well.


[OOC: Children's Chapel is open to all the under 18 crowd. Feel free to handwave attending, and if you want an actual log at any time, give me a shout and I'll happily put one up.]

Jump's coming up soon, huh?

[ this would be the pathetically boring intro to a transmission from a girl that's been hiding out the last couple weeks. well, not hiding. avoiding, maybe. too many bad things happening all at once never exactly results in a social Raven. but now she's here, a few things on her mind but nothing she's sure she wants to bring up to the ship at large. although; ]

I should probably think about this more before just asking everyone, but. I think after being here for so long, I'd really like to have a roommate. If anyone's up for that? Like, moving in after the next jump. Maybe. [ her mind immediately goes to Quinn, but she'll bring it up to her personally later on. ] I spend most of my time out and about on the ship, but having someone to hang out with regularly would be pretty groovy. It's just an idea. But if anybody's roommate-less, and would be into moving onto the first floor, um. Let me know! It could be fun.

Also, since I realize it's been a long time since I brought it up, and a lot of new people have come on board since then - Yes, I'm blue. No, I'm not an alien ( although I wouldn't be trying to hide it if I was ), I'm a shapeshifter. This is what I look like when I'm not hidden beneath a shift. No clue why, it's just a genetic. Thing. And I don't mind talking about it at all, either, so if you're curious about it, you can just ask. [ still a TINY bit nervous that someone might be afraid of her, but she's not about to make it obvious. instead she just smiles, then shuts off her feed. ]


( a few encrypted messages to: NEAL CAFFREY, JAKE & DIRK, ALEX SUMMERS )

[ The technology, all in all, isn't too hard to grasp. It's more the fact that there's no real way off the ship (no concrete information as to how the passengers arrived, no explanation as to the contents of the lockers), not to mention the circumstances under which he had arrived, that leave Connors ill at ease. The phenomenon, however, is not one that he seems to be alone in, and when the video feed turns on, he seems much more put-together (and healthier, too) than he'd been when he'd arrived, glasses in place upon the bridge of his nose and the stump of his arm barely visible at the bottom edge of the screen. ]

Apologies, first of all, if the question is redundant, [ he begins, with a slight duck of his head, ] but considering the range of worlds from which we hail, I was curious as to how many passengers are not classified as human or are possessed of "supernatural" capabilities. I'd like to do a little research, if at all possible.

[ He opens his mouth as if to continue on, but seems to think better of it. The transmission is awkwardly short, as is, but he doesn't have much else to say that's strictly relevant (that won't sound too much like covering up). ]

Thank you for your time. Dr. Curtis Connors, at your service.

[ Normally, she would address the ship with both her name and face. A bow of her head, her most polite smile — means by which to garner favor and convince those she would entreat for help. (See how how guilelessly I ask, says her look. Truly, I am a soul worth helping. But gone are those days, for there are those aboard the ship who would readily look upon Alayne's face and say: behold, Sansa Stark or Lady Lannister or I knew Petyr Baelish; of bastards, he had none. Though she needs the assistance others, Alayne knows she must be careful now in what she offers too readily. Even if the other Westerosi still struggle with their devices, she must not rely solely upon their ignorances to keep her shielded and her secrets hidden.

So: some caution, at least at the very surface. A request made through text; an offer with a name but no face. A bastard from the Vale in search of cloth, that is all. ]

Good people of the Tranquility.
I am in search of a passenger, intrepid and strong-legged, to assist me in my endeavors.
Already once I have offered my services to the ship,
those of sewing, mending and embroidery,
and I hope to continue to do so, though I am hindered by a certain lack.
Although thread has come readily to me with the jumps,
fabric proves a much rarer commodity.
My aim is to enlist aid in the collection and dyeing of cloth.
The ship is vast and many of its quarters stand empty,
and I would look to gather some portion of those unused linens,
to give that fabric greater purpose.

But the vastness of the Tranquility is no place for a young woman to venture alone.
Especially when her arms alone promise to return such a meager bounty.

I offer recompense by way of trade or exchange of service.
The ship has been generous with me by way of worldly possession,
though I fear most of what I own is rather delicate and will only appeal to certain tastes.

Thank you.

[ The message is posted and remains as is for an hour, maybe two. Then later an amendment comes, one that Alayne debates over including. ]

I am also in search of the person
who thought it fit to slip a note beneath my door last night.
You are not in trouble by any means, whomever you are.
I look only to thank you for your endeavors.

[Jesse's set up the communicator so it gives a static view of the scene. They're in Jane's room - the one she hasn't been living in - and it's been cleared to make room for one big art project of some kind. There are cardboard storage boxes everywhere, all cut up into various shapes and painted to resemble adorable child-sized robots. Jane and Lisbeth are in the background there, still working on a few pieces.]

Oh my god, you guys, you would not believe... We've got all this amazing robot armor, but it turns out we made it all too little. So what we were thinking is, if you're small enough to fit into this stuff, let us know right now? And just tell us your tattoo number, yo, and we can drop off some kickass robot armor at your room. How's that sound?

And hey - Grown-ups, don't try to steal any from the kids. It's too awesome for you, so. You know. Chill, okay?

[This is, of course, Jesse's solution to this problem.]

[And now, a public service announcement from your resident lord and master of gross exaggeration, poster child of pointless overreaction, supreme champion of the ninety-mile-an-hour whinge--]

There's a cow in the oxygen garden.

[He doesn't even bother to hide the undercurrent of disgust in the audio feed, an edge to his voice that makes it clear he's most likely had a recent run-in with the aforementioned cow and/or a cow by-product.]

There's a cow in the oxygen garden why is there a cow in the oxygen garden on what strange, bizarro planet did any of you think this was a good idea?

Agh, it's--nevermind, I'm absolutely positive that at least some of you come from strange, bizarro planets where this sort of thing is acceptable. I mean, the cats and the dogs and--I heard there's a horse, too--are bad enough, now we've got livestock.

And don't even--don't even get me started on the bloody birds. Filthy. Eugh.

I know we're probably still hung up on certain unnamed parties forgetting how to swim, and yes, fair enough, it's tragic, but I think we could all use a, ah. Friendly reminder. This is, in fact, a spaceship. Not a zoo. How is that--What's the point, anyway? It's all--it's all great that the ship packed up your giant killer wolf and dumped it in your locker just for you, but maybe the rest of us are not entirely comfortable with the idea of cows and horses and giant killer wolves out! Anyone think of that?

You can't walk five feet around here without running into someone's pet. We have got to start talking about what to do with all these animals. Honestly.

[ Today the Khaleesi looks troubled. Not worried, but troubled. There are many that have arrived, and many that have left. This strange 'magic' that does this has great power, and it leaves her confused, and afraid.

It isn't her worries that cause her to speak though, rather the arrivals instead. She has no question, nor a need for asking, but more a simple wish of conversation (and a wish to know whom is like her) ]

There are many that have arrived, many from my own world as well as others, but they may as well all be foreign. Though they are from my world I know not one. [ The surname of Stark or Lannister not included ] I would not wish for any to arrive, to be here. [ Even if it would be nice, to see Ser Jorah or one of her handmaidens (she would say Drogo too, but he is gone) ]

Would you wish for another? For a friend? [ Or even a foe, just someone familiar ] Or would you wish to remain alone?

Heyyyyyy, this is Ned.

[ Heyyyyyy, that's not Ned. That's a golden retriever panting into the screen. The Pie Maker eventually leans into view while the dog moves aside. Definitely a dog with manners. ]

How many of us on board have... pets? [ —Can't quite pinpoint the right word. He really means Digby as a friend rather than a pet. "Pet" doesn't sit well on his tongue, a taste he would easily spit and replace with... "a best friend." The lightened mood in his expression is evident, reunited and doomed together in space, but it's just a little odd how carefully distanced he is from the dog, clasping his hands together. An allergy seems to be the logical excuse. ]

I'm sure Digby would enjoy the company. He does at home, but you know, that's not really the case anymore. [ A pause. Something he had forgotten: ] Yeah, to the newcomers... Ned. Digby. [ A bark. ] Hi.

A girl wandered the ship, and not the outpost. She knows there were cruel things there. Evil things. [Because more than anything else, a girl listens and watches.]

A girl would ask a question of everyone, to distract from those things. She hopes all may answer, for there are a great many foreign things to her here.

What city, country, planet [yes, she remembers these strange but important words] do the people of Tranquility call home? Where do they come from, if they have no home? What are their names?

A girl regrets that she cannot answer well. A girl is of the Faceless Men, and so she has no name, no face. Her only home is in Braavos, Essos, on a planet that has no name, like the girl.

[Maybe it's a warning, in the end, now that she knows the kingslayer is to gain a hand: she knows that the only people who will really understand what the Faceless Men are, are few on the ship; but there are others, she thinks, who will interpret the words she does not say.]

A girl will listen to true and false answers alike, if she must. She only asks for answers.

[ Feed: on. The familiar sight of Ward and Resnik on the bridge begins broadcasting on the network, lights from the nearby consoles tinging their faces blue in the dull light. In contrast from their last post, they both look steady, alert, and well-rested.

Resnik is closest to the camera, her arms folded. Ward, by contrast, is behind and to the left of her, half-hidden in the shadows. She begins: ]

We'll keep this short. Within the next 24 hours, we'll be arriving at Strela outpost. The five shuttles that have been repaired have been pre-programmed to dock safely at the station, so those of you who'd like to come on shore leave, now's your chance.

[ Ward walks up behind her, seemingly to check a console to the feed's right. ] We'll be there a few days. Resnik and I will restock the ship's stores, and you can stretch your legs. [ His eyes flick to the camera. ]

Meet us at the shuttle bay tomorrow at 1200 hours. We'll proceed from there.

OOC NOTE ▒ Direct your comments to either Ward or Resnik by placing their name in the subject line, along with the type of return transmission (video, audio, or text). Comments without a specific name in the subject line will be treated as a question directed to the both of them.

[The video feed is shaky to start with--a view of a corridor floor, to start with, and then the walls--a flash of grey wolf fur before it comes to fix on the ceiling-- There's whispered conversation in children's voices as well, one more irritated than the other. Whoever is handling this video is not accustomed to doing so, but eventually it straightens out enough to fixate on the subject of the video: Bran Stark, who is, impossibly, standing.

...and also wearing triangular orange sunglasses as well, but it's the standing that ought to be most astonishing.

He doesn't realize that the camera has finally found its focus, not at first. He is looking beyond still, at whoever is making the recording--but then he smiles, and glances self-consciously down at his legs.]

I don't want to make a very long speech. But--I'm Bran Stark. I have been aboard this ship for some months, so I have seen the threats and the dangers that lie on this ship. But I think it is important for people to remember that there are good things as well. [He bites at his lip, aware of how childish this might sound. He pushes his fingers through the thick ruff of fur at Summer's neck. The direwolf is standing beside him, and somehow the contrast of their size--a boy, and a direwolf nearly the size of a small pony--is even greater now, though Bran is standing.]

When I first came here, I was crippled, but as I have come aboard this ship, my friend Dirk Strider has made these robotic legs for me. [The way he pronounces the word is enough to prove that he is yet unfamiliar with it, and he smiles awkwardly to acknowledge that before he takes a deep and steadying breath-- and then he takes a step. It is a little uncertain, but he does not falter and, concentrating, he takes a second step, and then another, and he laughs, so pleased with his own success--he has practiced for this moment, but there is a difference between small steps in secret and a display such as this. His momentum is too great, and he knocks against the wall--Summer is there, pushing against him, and he steadies himself between the direwolf and the wall, his grin exhausted and exuberant all at once.

He gets in a breath to try to recover, but he is still grinning hugely, unable to banish the expression from his face.]

It isn't showing off--it's only proving that there are good things to be found here, too. And it's a surprise--I wanted to show everyone at once, in some way. [This is an unspoken apology, to Robb and Alayne and Jon especially, and he looks down with a little touch of shame, though not enough to quite overtake his smile.] And that's the end. Thank you.

[And with that, with his final little smile, the video turns around toward the ceiling again, shaky--there's a clatter, and it switches off.]

_{[ There's a bit of shuffling around. He hadn't done a video post to the network yet, so let's see here. Pushing some buttons a messing around a little until he pulls his communicator back. He's in his quarters. ]}
Haa-haaa! By Jove, I think I've got this! Ah, sweet Jesus christmas, this thing is already streaming? To the entire network? Aw, god!

_{[ A bit frantic, he runs a hand through his hair a little before clearing his throat. He's got a peculiar accent, sounding more Australian than anything. ]}
Right. Erm, yes. Aloha to my dearest victims aboard this spacecraft! This is Jake English speaking. Perhaps there is the off chance that you and I have exchanged text messages one another. I am the bearer of the rather ridiculously green text that has just recently been witnessed amongst those in the network. Those who have had the fortune to say a howdy-doo to me and possible engage in interactions with me, we meet again and here I am in the flesh and bones!
Dapper as hell, am I correct? Ha haha. Naw, I'm joshing.

A bit.

And those you haven't, I greet you with the utmost pleasure and I dare say, it would be certainly an enlightening experience to get to know the lot of you even more. In any case, what brings me to this network stream so close to whence I first arrived is the fact that I am in dire need of some supplies. I'm not readily prepared as I am comfortable with, carrying merely two loaded pistols: Beretta M9s. And true enough there are those who "have my back" so to say, there are just some things I feel naked without.  
The things I need are very, very important to my being and I would be much obliged if there any sort of freaking way I could knick, borrow or somehow even have for keepsake the items listed here. If you have any of these things and wouldn't mind parting with them, I would fucking love you. Uh.

_{[ He wipes off his brow with his thumb, ducking his head a little. ]}
My deepest apologies if that sounded out of line or a bit forward and excuse me if this comes off as a botheration to anybody who is listening, but the generosity of others would be extraordinary appreciated.
Considering the amount of different characters we have here, I'm going to list things that are likely improbable, but it is worth a friggen' shot.