04 November 2015 @ 08:46 am
[The rumpled wizard in the sliver of mirror, adjusting his glasses. He's standing near the shouting rock, which has a new boulder rolled up near it. On the surface of a the boulder, there's what looks like an enormous poster, black-and-white, the details hard to make out.]

Morning, everybody. I hope most of us are more-or-less unscathed from the bloody weird wind that blew through the other week, may Mr. Mendoza rest in peace.

Today, I'd like to present a map. [A beat.] Kind of.

Some of you remember Hermione. She and I put together a-- sort of a map. We photographed the terrain from the sky, as much as we could cover before the tether kicked in. The shots are now spelled together, so it's continuous, but you'll see that it's... animated. Like a movie on loop. [More sophisticated and less predictable than that, but it seems ludicrous to get bogged down in technical detail, so Harry doesn't.] Don't worry, it can't be used for spying-- everybody's too small to see, and it isn't realtime. [He knows y'all and your sundry paranoias. He has some, himself.]

[Harry angles the mirror to view the 'map[ooc link].' It stretches five feet up and across, is roughly circular, attached to the boulder's face with a sticking spell and proofed against the weather. Trees obscure loads of the detail, their tops reduced to a semblence of broccoli heads swaying slightly, but you can see where the river flows and how the canyon begins, protruding from underneath the Tranquility's nose. Trees bob far below. Some flocks moving by as well, too far below to make out in detail. It's a little funny— out of the edges of the circle, occasionally you'll see a foot or the front end of a broom swing in.]

I've also got a cat. [His face darkens slightly. Mostly, he looks sad.] Please inquire within.

OOC: For future note, will be needed to 'renew' the map! If left neglected, it will eventually fall apart into individual pieces, peel off the boulder, and suffer from wind and rain. Please PM me if you have other questions.
05 October 2015 @ 11:59 pm
[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!]
02 July 2015 @ 10:03 pm
[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!



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.



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.))
22 June 2015 @ 08:25 pm
hullo im posting a survey on behalf of Support
Support asked me to
answers here please but direct all questions to mr R J Lupin hes head of Support surveys thats why he asked me to do this one for him
interdepartmental unity

07 June 2015 @ 12:02 am
[Today, Elsa wears a long blue gown with a pale, diaphanous overlayer. She wants to be as much herself as possible, after days with other people. She's addressing the network very seriously, but her words are initially uncertain. As she continues to speak, she sounds more confident.]

Hello, everyone.

About six months ago, I didn't wake up after the jump. I missed a whole month, and I know I wasn't the only one. I had dreams during this time, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember anything about them.

I've been starting to remember things since the last jump. Everything that has happened since then... the way that girl Seraphim died and the things she said... it makes me think that what I remember might be important, if it wasn't just a dream.

I talked to Emily about it recently, but there's more now.

The trouble is, I'm pretty good with math, but I don't understand the technology here very well. It's not like anything we had at home. That might be important, too.

My dream was about a woman with thick black hair and a ruddy complexion. She wore her hair pulled back. She left the pods after a jump, and the lights were red, and everyone was lined up in formation. I don't think I've ever seen anyone who looked like her here.

A lot of things that happened after that are still coming back in bits and pieces. The thing that I remember now is... after some time passed, she went to the jump drive. It's the thing that helps the ship move, isn't it? It wasn't easy for her to get in, but I still don't understand why yet: the important thing is that she made it. And it wasn't what she expected to see, it was... there were things that should have been moving that were... frozen. Not as if they were in ice, but they were just hanging there in the air, kind of like lightning that never moved or ended.

[Her expression has grown increasingly troubled through the course of this narrative.]

It scared her.

Did anyone else see this? Even if you didn't... do you know what it means?
05 May 2015 @ 09:37 am
Hello. Sirius & I had a go at mapping the ship, & it went a bit wrong.

Not wrong like the boggart went wrong. Don't worry. Everything is fine, except our map, although to be safe everyone should avoid the lounge on 005 near the 070s rooms for a day or two while we sort it. It's possible that the spellwork is off. But as we're actually very good at this (I promise) the more likely explanation is that something else is off.

If things had gone according to plan, it would have been a map that was anchored to the ship & able to move with the corridors & so on. It's hard to explain what happened, but we have it recorded.


It still looks like that. We've been watching it for a while & nothing has changed. If anyone has any ideas, we would love to hear them.
18 March 2015 @ 09:59 pm
VIDEO: here )

Hello Tranquility,

My friend left recently, so I'm afraid that her cat is in need of new companionship. He and I are all right but I'm hoping that someone might do better. He's quite self-sufficient mind you, we just don't get on quite like that. He's brilliant. Honestly, he's solved huge criminal intrigues before regular people have.

If you're able to adopt him, I'd like to check in every now and again for awhile. Cheers,

08 February 2015 @ 07:38 pm
Hi, hey, howdy, konnichiwa, what's up, and how's it hangin' — been a while since I did one of these.

I mean, it's been a while for this place, anyway; I'm still wrapping my head around, you know, the whole "you were gone for like months" thing when I feel like I've never left. Pretty fucked up, right? I feel cheated out of some trauma or whatever. Good times. But seriously, I've heard it's been as rough as it ever is; hope you guys have been hanging in there. I've only been back a month but it feels kind of tense after that spooky monster problem.

[That said, Marty is actually in a great goddamn mood, so he's gonna damn well spread his cheer.]

As payment, I like to formally introduce you to Marty's Power Hour here aboard the Horror Ship Ala Mode. If you've got any Top 100 Songs from the 80's, 90's, or early 2000's, just shoot me a request and I'll see what I got! I can't guarantee anything, but at least you guys can always clean your weird ol' space rooms to the beat of some of the greatest Earth hits ever. Featuring mostly old pop and rap, because those are the single most important genres of all time. No offense, rock, plenty offense to country. 


Here's a good ol' classic, from me to you! Don't do drugs, kids, unless her name is Mary Jane.

And just for your information, I do know the entire dance routine, thanks.

[There's a click, and his shitty old self-fixed CD player is spinning out a tune:]

25 January 2015 @ 05:20 pm
As you are no doubt aware, presently we are dealing with the threat presented by the boggart that has been released aboard the ship. On behalf of Xenogen, I wish to share the following information.

  • Although we are only aware of one boggart having been released, sightings and encounters indicate that it has multiplied somehow and we are not currently certain how many roam.
  • Contrary to previously supplied information, these creatures appear to be dying.

Our request:

  • If you are able, please inform Xenogen - via this post or through contacting one of us individually - your whereabouts when sighting the creatures, as well as the timing of the sightings and how they present themselves.
  • If you have killed one of them, please inform us with some detail as to how.

Thank you.
14 January 2015 @ 09:46 pm
Hello. Hi-- my name is Harry Potter.

[The boy-- young man, really, who sits in front of the camera presents with round-lensed spectacles and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, which is barely visible under the tousle of his very black forelocks. Something about the whiteness of his face and the uneven press of his lips suggests that what he has to say is very difficult for him; it is.

Blood has been thundering his ears for the past hour; since Draco Malfoy let slip Professor Snape's name so casually. As if-- as if.]
I'm looking for someone. Well, two someones, really. There's, um, a man-- he'll look a lot like me. No scar, [he thumps the heel of his hand on his forehead demonstratively,] but he'll have black hair and he'll be really thin. I'm also looking for a woman. She'll have red hair and green eyes. Their names are James and Lily. James and Lily Potter.

[A beat.]

I've got a picture, right here. [A slight fiddling of the camera, and then he raises up the black-and-white photograph to see, its image curiously animate.

The couple depicted therein are smiling, their faces alive with sincere mirth; the wind picks up and twirls Lily's desaturated hair a little, doesn't put a dent in James' rumpled mop, but doesn't make it much worse either. Harry holds it up long enough for the camera to focus; long enough for the breeze to go through twice, for James to swing her around twice, for Lily to dip at the waist twice, her fingers tight around her husband's. Then Harry again. He's gotten whiter since the last time he was in the screen.]
Please let me know if you've seen them here. Cheers.

[OOC:] Please consider this backdated near Jump day.
06 July 2014 @ 11:25 pm
Looking for a psychic.
15 May 2014 @ 10:17 pm
The xenobiology and genetics department would like to note that should anyone find themselves struggling after contact (of any kind) with what would be considered dark magic, that we are equipped to offer you help.

In the interests of cataloging ship-induced phenomenon, we would like to know if any passengers experienced either of the following:
a) A desire to return to the Tranquility while on the Arima colony, contrary to personal expectation of such desire or otherwise

b) Any out of the ordinary emotion or incident while on board the Tranquility while others were on the Arima colony
The information will be used to further such activities as sitting around and thinking about it, given lack of other options.

[ If this sounds slightly friendlier and more sedate than usual coming from this ID#, it's because Charles and Nuala are both hovering over his shoulder, attempting to ensure Severus doesn't act like a total jerk to people while speaking on behalf of the department. (Despite this, he may have adlibbed that last line and gotten away with it.) It is unavoidably logical for the staff member fluent in dark magic to helm an offer concerning it, or somebody else would be making this missive. ]
[The feed opens to Luke's face, streaked, red, and blotchy. He's obviously been crying and he attempted to clean up, but his efforts weren't quite good enough to hide it. Around him is the quiet privacy of his room where he's been hiding.]

I need help.

I need advice.

Er--... I don't even know what I need exactly. I just-- I need to talk to somebody.

[He pauses to take a deep breath and gather his thoughts, running a hand through his hair.]

My best friend woke up from a pod for the first time yesterday. He doesn't know it yet but in the time I come from he's dead. He was killed in a battle. I had to lie to him a bit and--... I don't know what to do now.

He's probably going to find out eventually and I don't think it's right to keep hiding it from him, either. If I know he'll find out sooner or later I'd want it to be from me, you know? Not-- not from someone who might not be as careful about it, or--

I just... I don't know. Then sometimes I think that maybe it'd be better if he never finds out. Maybe he never has to know. He can spend his time here without having to worry about his future because I don't even know what that would--

[Luke decides to not go any further with that thought tangent. Imagining his friend becoming an empty shell and living out the rest of his time on the ship like that isn't something Luke wants to spend any more time thinking about.

He gathers himself, sniffs, and sits up straighter, pushing his shaggy hair out of his eyes. He wants to go about this as objectively as possible, considering only Biggs' feelings on the matter, but it's difficult to near impossible to keep his own feelings in check.]

Anyway, I want to hear from someone who's been in the same spot. Would you want to know? Or would you rather never find out? And then from the other side of things, have you ever had to talk to someone about this kind of thing? Let me know... if you can. Thanks.
29 April 2014 @ 08:09 pm
[ For so long, Frodo's told himself to stay strong. He was in a place far away from home, away from a purpose and away from his dearest friend. He had friends here; many of them were from Middle-earth as well. But there were enemies out there as well, ones who haunted his very dreams when he slept. They were here, and they were real, and that's why he had to put on a tough face.

But the sudden news has stripped him naked, so to speak. When Frodo shows his face, he looks sickly. His face is pale and his eyes are red. He doesn't try to smile; there's too much weighing on him to make him even attempt one. His eyes are glazed with tears, that show a lot more about how much he hurts than he'd ever dare to let on.

Frodo can't hide it now. His limit's been met. ]

How do you go on, when you've met an end? [ His voice is raspy, and weak. ] When you've met your limit, what do you do?

[ His one hand is clutching to the Ring that hangs from his neck. It's heavier than ever, and the chains holding the necklace in place is cutting into his skin. It was like it knew that he was upset, and was feeding from it... ] Oh, Merry. My poor cousin...

[ A pause. ] How can I go on?
19 April 2014 @ 11:54 am
[ A mixed media message graces the network. First, it's text. ]

there is a void that is dark and the dark has form we all stand upon the edge of the void and we
ask god for forgiveness the audacity of asking god for anything we do not
expect what
will be delivered unto us for we

[ And then it shifts seamlessly into video and sound, a voice picking up where text left off as if there were no difference. ]

...will be rewarded in the end.

[ A woman's voice. Raw at the edges, but holds a serenity at its centre. The video is blurry. Blue. Water. The reflection barely visible is straight on, as if the video were transmitted through her eyes. A halo of pale blonde hair. A gaunt but pretty face.

A queasy turn of motion. The video rights itself, handheld, a blur of an Olympic sized pool, reflective tiles. ]

I know a lot of you have been here for a long time. I haven't. This confinement is vast. We're trapped in the sheer size of space. Empty corridors, an empty galaxy. Monotony that makes you starve for boredom, because excitement never portends anything good. At least I can see anything I want to see.

So tell me.

[ She angles the communicator back to herself, the blue, dappled reflections of the pool casting strange shadows over her face. If anyone is familiar with the tall blonde woman who lives on level 29, you may have noticed she's been missing. A smile, suddenly, one that shows her eye teeth. ]

How do you stop yourselves from going completely crazy?
18 April 2014 @ 12:07 pm
[There a click on, and the clear sound that someone is there, but there's a pause, like maybe someone is making sure.]

Is this broadcast going through?

I think I got it-

Hello, Tranquility, my name is Steve Rogers.

I'd like to be directed to whoever is in charge of Security, if that's not too much trouble. And I'd like to know if it's possible to see out into space. Are there any windows on board?

[Annnnd a pause, and a fumble.]

Is it off?

[And then another pause.]

Sorry, excuse me-

[And NOW it's off.]
15 April 2014 @ 12:34 pm
So I've got a dilemma. One that I'm hoping that someone on the ship can help me with.

[Cue the flash of a charming, Harkness grin. C'mon, whoever you are, you know you wanna.]

I need something made for me. For a friend. And while I'm good at a lot of things - a lot of things [yes, Jack, please spare us the innuendo] - metalworking really isn't one of them. Give me an Arcateenian psychic melder or a W'narian battle cruiser any day, but metal arts - arts in general really - are a bit beyond me. Especially on as small a scale as I'm looking for.

Anyway, I've heard there are a few on board with the sort of skill that might be able to help me. I know that payment doesn't really work in any normal sort of way in this place, but I'm sure we'll be able to work something out.

[Way to be kind of cryptic, Jack. Hopefully it gets enough of the point across though.]
10 March 2014 @ 12:04 pm
Does there exist documentation or any record concerning the use or effects of magic on the ship? I am interested in notation on repeated instances of magic during menial or daily activities as well as during times of flux as has recently passed, irrelevant to 'type' or origin of said magic.

I have perused the informational guide as well as backread through the network but this technology is not in use where I am from; I am unsure if I have missed anything due to unfamiliarity with the interface.
19 February 2014 @ 11:18 am
[This public service announcement comes to you from the security offices, and is delivered in a bored monotone. It's more a recitation than anything, really--Sirius is clearly reading off of a piece of paper. This fact is very clear, because he's holding up the paper, and you can mostly see it.]

Good day. My name is Mi-- Sirius Black. I'm a member of the security team. Unfortunately. All new arrivals, please do not hesitate to contact Miles Edgeworth, and not me, if you have either questions regarding security or if you are feeling distinctly masochistic and want to volunteer. He's always looking for new recruits and it would be really lovely if he had someone else to read things off of paper for him. And if you don't like reading things off of paper, and you're a military, law enforcement, or combat type, you can contact him as well. Just contact him. Give the man something to do.

Similarly, if you run into any trouble or find yourself in distress of any sort, which you most likely will, at some point, 'cos that's the way of things around here, kindly inform him, and not me, and he will swoop in to your rescue. Or organise someone to swoop in to your rescue, he's a terrific organiser. But he might just do it himself--I know it doesn't seem as if he will, but trust me, he will.

[Paper finished, he glances up. He's tired; it shows in his face, but he grins anyways.]

And now, because this wouldn't be the Miles Edgeworth Radio Hour without a survey--please answer this survey here and send a copy along to him as well so he doesn't miss out on the fun of reading your answers twice over. That's Miles Egdeworth, SEC » 007 » 114. He would just love to hear from you all.

[And he knocks off a salute, even though it's very lazy and he's slumped in his chair.]


survey.urmom.doc )
06 February 2014 @ 08:32 pm
[ The whole post is broken up by static, Rebecca's voice quiet, like she's speaking more to herself than to the network. They're not words anyone is going to want to hear, and she doesn't know most of the people on the ship; they're not words necessarily meant for them. But somehow, she feels like she has to share. ]

It's easy, killing. [ At least, in comparison to the other thing on her mind. ] People do it all the time. Maybe not most of the people here, maybe not on purpose -- but people do it. They kill to protect themselves, to eat, for a cause. They even do it on accident. How many times a day do you think you kill insects, back home -- without even trying? It's a lot, I bet.

Dying... that's hard. People are scared of it. People don't want to die; there's more they could do, things that they never got around to. Plenty of people die before their time, on accident or because something or someone killed them.

Dying for someone is the hardest, I think. It's easy to be selfish. It's easy to let someone else do it, to not act. It would have been so much easier for all of us not to walk into the bridge, to try and find things out. And yeah, we could have done a better job. But we didn't do it for no reason.

I'm not saying that, if we die, we died for all of you. I'm not saying that I want to die, for all of you or for one of you. But... if you think about it, later -- if we do die -- then maybe that's how you'll think of it.

[ A pause, then a slight laugh, broken up by static. ]

Or, you know, you call us stupid. Guess we deserve that, too.