17 May 2015 @ 09:44 pm
[Being from the second jump, Heather's been dealing with this headache bullshit for a longer than she'd like. Consequently, she looks like crap - if crap that's had an idea it's really excited about. Red eyes accentuated by dark rings, a smear from a nosebleed that got a very cursory cleanup (because who cares when you're only going to have another in half an hour?), and a jittery sort of energy that belies her tiredness.]

Anybody remember Mattie Ross? Cool kid. Braids, hat, very serious. She tried this thing when she was here with setting up a school and I figured - seems like there are more kids around now than there have been in a while, maybe it's time we start that up again?

I helped out last time. It was good. Thing is, I don't know anything about teaching and I have a pretty limited skill set. I'm gonna need a lot of help. And what I was thinking is we could set it up so it's relevant to here. Give the kids a grounding in the skills we need here, so like - I'm in agricultural, I can give a crash course in how to keep things running so we can all keep breathing. And maybe someone from medical can come and teach basic first aid, someone from security to show 'em what to do when everything gets all dangerous the way it likes to.

I know there's a lot going on. Headaches and blood and voids and people from off the ship. I figure that just means it's more important than ever that everyone knows how to take care of themselves. So let me know if you feel like you could help make this work. Or hell, if you wanna come and you've got ideas about how we should do it. Don't let the grownups set all the rules, that's like a guaranteed bad time, right?
28 February 2015 @ 07:07 pm
Okay, so I'm pretty much ridiculously bored right now, and it's not like I can go anywhere because like 90% of the people who're even awake right now are doing shit in the departments, so.

I don't know. Tell me a joke. The worse the better. If I have to pretty much shun you for telling it, it means you win.
I work now!! I'm a worker like a, a adult, just like you guys! See??

[He pulls up his sleeve to show you guys his wicked awesome addition to his tattoo.

SCI » 039 » 055

Clearly someone has been telling him things to keep him motivated and busy. Heather.]

I work in the garden now! Heder says I'm gonna be a... morale officer!! I talk to everyone and make sure they're happy when they work and they're not sad, and if they are I can try t'make them feel better. So if you work there and you feel bad, just talk to me, and I'll help you! And if you get tired, I'll do your job, 'cus I don't get tired very easy. I'm a good worker.


A-and if you wanna talk but you don't grow plants and stuff, that's okay. 

I like talking with everybody.

[That's why he's even posting, okay, he just wants to blabber at all of you.

He spares no one from his talkative fate.]

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:]

05 February 2015 @ 10:18 pm
[Filtered from the Serenity crew]

[Throughout the message, Wash keeps glancing at something just off screen. He's not exactly his usual happy goofy self.]

A lot of things recently have gotten me thinking. Some of you have kids, right?

[He glances to the off screen object again and sighs slightly.]

What's it like?
14 January 2015 @ 05:21 am
[ Erik’s voice is low and rough, raw tension metered in the effort he makes to keep himself in check. ]

There is no force in this universe that has our best interests at heart.

We’re stowaways on a stolen warship. Van Rijn is hunting for us.

From what little we know of him, we may deduce that he is not a man celebrated for his mercy. If we are taken on Van Rijn’s terms, we will be subject to his rule -- not as people, but as scientific curiosities. Collateral damage. Pirates. Witnesses. He has no obligation to follow through on any promise his men make.

We are not citizens of this world. We don’t have rights.

Be discreet. Keep communications apprised of any contact you have with his crew. If we are to engage with him, it must be on our terms. If his forces breach this vessel, be prepared to fight for your lives.

[ There’s a pause, as if he’s checking notes. ]

For those of you unfamiliar with the basic operation of Tranquility-issue space suits and armaments, now is the time to learn.

[ ...And a moment of silence for his self-control buckling under the strain of formal address. ]

As of this moment, if I discover that any one of you has taken it upon yourselves to pander away further intelligence on this ship or your fellow passengers in exchange for safe passage -- hope that Van Rijn finds you before I do.

[ He ends that sentence, and so the transmission, with a bristling quiver at the tail of his diction and an abrupt punch of his forefinger. Magneto out. ]
07 January 2015 @ 05:27 pm
Boy, that was a close one! That gas formation was a clever trick.

Hello there.

I know I've already spoken to some of you—I had hoped to do this individually—but it appears we need to move things along more quickly than we'd realized. That ship of yours seems eager to shake us, and we simply can't let that happen.

My name is Lina Barnez. The rest of the team and I have been working on contacting the Tranquility for some time. Unfortunately, our tech isn't perfectly compatible with what you're running on. It hasn't been easy, but we're managing. I don't know how long we'll have.

We're here to help you, but in order to do that, we'll need you to help us. You've been through a lot on this ship: it's a miracle so many of you are still with us. We'd like to make sure you stay that way, but we can only do that if you're completely honest with us.

We know about the events on Strela, the Cyllene and Arima, as well as the Scylla. What happened to those poor people was not your fault, and you have my word that we have no plans to hold you responsible for those events.

But we need to work together to make sure it doesn't happen again. The more you tell us about what's been going on aboard the Tranquility, the more we can do.

[ NOTE: All conversations will be cut off before too long by the engines suddenly powering back up, and the jump alarm sounding to alert characters to proceed to medbay immediately. ]
17 November 2014 @ 10:42 pm
cw: suicide

Locked to Heather Mason | video | 0% encryption


[Wherever William is, it's dark. By now, he's been missing for more than a day; perhaps even two. Granny Weatherwax is ruling Medical Bay with talons of iron, but that isn't to say his absence has been overlooked. That is to say rather the obvious. His face is white like a plastic bag that can't make up its mind whether it's drowning or floating in pooled darkness.] Um.

I fucked up. I thought I could get out of range, but it all went tits up.

Locked to Severus Snape | text | 0% encryption

its me. I did it. im really fucking sorry but

I dont know how to make it stop.

i think this is why i wasnt sleeping. wasnt it?

I guess it doesnt matter now. I marked the way but I lost all of it. i dont think Ive got options left this point. sorry. again.
12 November 2014 @ 08:43 pm
[Hannah has learned, accidentally or experimentally, appropriate camera distance. Look, it's her whole face, complete with big hair, and those long pointy ears. She--not quite grins, but, well, she looks amused, if not a bit smug.]

Separate of the whole bullshit kidnapping thing, these little faceboxes are fucking cool.

But, [she looks more critical now, kind of squinting] really seems like there's a ton of humans. Where's, you know, the rest of the world?

[Was she kidnapped to fill a quota or something? Because that's just awkward. Maybe they should throw her back and get a better elf.]
21 June 2014 @ 08:10 pm
You're not alone. People you care about are calling for your help, and you want to go help them. I'm going to ask you to be a little more patient before you run off into the dark. We know they're lost, we know there's something pursuing them, we know they need help. But we also know that the most recent post on the network, the one talking about warnings from the captain - a captain we don't have - wasn't made by one of us. That means this problem is bigger than you think; it's bigger than all of us, and it's important we get a clear image of what we're facing before we leave. Shepard's team has gone missing, and other comms have started going off the radar too--we'll start where they disappeared, and if we do this together, we might even succeed. The last thing we need is more of you lost out there because you chose to do this on your own.

Right now I need your help in a different, but just as important way. If you've received a message from someone, we need to hear them. That way we can establish a thorough list of who's missing, and try and piece together what they were all trying to say.

Tyke, as Head of Security, is going to coordinate the rescue. I imagine she'll speak to you shortly herself. Rest assured we'll need bodies on the ground for this one, and I know there's going to be no telling some of you to stay put, so forgive me if I - at least - save myself the effort of trying. The corridors are dangerous: bring weapons, ammunition, your communicator, but don't worry too much about rations--you won't need them.

[ He seems about to sign off, but he has to address that post, the grinding static and the screams underneath it, all of it so familiar to him by now. ]


"They're getting closer." I don't know about you, but that doesn't sound like a coincidence. Whatever we find out there, whatever is after our people, try not to kill it unless you have to. Don't get killed, but bear in mind the risk that we may be deceived into murdering people who would be our allies. I can't shake the feeling that we're being set up. Alright. Hang in there, everyone.
10 May 2014 @ 07:32 pm
does anybody have knitting needles i can use or know where i can get some?

... anyone actually know how to knit, for that matter?

[really stiles? the first thing you actually choose to post to the network and it's this. you're impossible. you're also not helping jason's nickname for you right now.]
25 March 2014 @ 06:58 pm
I've got an inquiry about amputation. Metaphysical amputation, you could call it.

Where I come from, cutting off limbs is a routine procedure. We've been doing it since before the days of biting on a belt buckle and bearing the pain. And if you do it right, you'll survive. But what about parts that can't can't be cut into and stitched up?

Some of you call it magic, even if that frankly just sounds like fairytale bullshit to me. A generalized name for distinct powers in different worlds.

It's something that can't be seen or touched, that's immaterial, and is yet just as attached to you as an arm or leg. If you cut yourself you bleed. If you remove that part of you, what happens? How the fuck do you cut out something like that?

At least for me, it hasn't always been there, so logically, I shouldn't need it around. I should be able to get rid of it, without repercussion. Except that's the thing about this-- magic-- power-- whatever you want to call it. It isn't logical. It's existence itself is a blatant fuck you to all the laws of the universe, laws that have a damn good reason for being there in the first place. Unfortunately, it's also stubborn. Older and trickier than you can even imagine. It doesn't want to go away, and it'll keep on reminding you of that, louder and louder, ever incessant.

My question is simple— how do I get rid of it?
14 March 2014 @ 05:03 pm
So, I just got this new prosthetic arm and I need to test it out... I figure a good place to start would be typing, to try and hone my motor skills. Would anyone be interested in a little back and forth? Doesn't have to be extensive or meaningful.

I seem to be able to hold a gun, which is my main concern, but I'd like help with that, too, if anyone's willing. Thanks.
20 February 2014 @ 02:01 am
Let me start this by saying that I feel absolutely silly for having not thought of doing this a long, long time ago, but - well. That's obviously not longer the case. But I ought to get it out of the way anyhow.

[a breath.]

Katherine Stewart.

Marguerite Chadwick.

Stanley Chadwick.

Anthony Proud.

Delphine Gaudin.

Emilia Gorski-Grumley.

[With a little tension in her voice-] Julia Grumley.

[And after a pointed pause, exhaling again - this name is the hardest to say.] And Frederick Grumley.

I don't suppose anyone here has seen either of these people. Or - is any of these people? Who knows how long I've been here, but considering how long we've all been here, I... I thought it couldn't hurt to ask. If I'm here, chances are one of them might be, too. Not that it would be ideal, but I'd rather know about it.

[Read: she misses them. And she's worried about them. So there you have it.]

Thank you.
13 February 2014 @ 02:16 am
[ surprise, surprise, Wichita's broadcasting from the back room in the bar, like she did more often than not before she left. it's not like she's had any "man, it's weird to be back" feelings, because- well she didn't even realize she was gone for however many months when she first woke up after the jump. but then she turns on her communicator and there are a million transmissions about shit she doesn't understand, like, at all, and so she figures she better get to this sooner than later. ]


[ hey. complete with a single wave and a somewhat sarcastic kind of grin. ]

First thing's first, for all the new kids on the block, I'm Wichita and whether you want to or not, I'm going to get to know a decent amount of you, because I'm a bartender at the space bar on the 6th level of the passenger quarters. AKA, the only open-to-everyone bar on board. I'm there pretty much all the time. Before anyone asks, no, Wichita isn't my real name, but no, I'm not going to tell you what it is. It's been a really long time since I've been home, but back then I had to learn how to use a gun, and I've gotten pretty good at it, so I also offer up shooting lessons for anybody that wants them. My two rules when it comes to all that are one, no mixing booze and guns, on the range or in my bar, and two, don't be a douchebag. So. If you fit those rules and want to come by the bar or sign up for a shooting lesson, consider this an open invite.

And there's that introduction.


Second thing's second, I understand that my old room was left unlocked while I was gone, and that usually means that stuff is up for grabs, but that's no bueno now that I'm back, so this is me saying it needs to be returned. Immediately. [ the stuff she took from the kitchens and various parts of the ship she doesn't care about, but the stuff her friends left behind.. ] It's a short list, at least. Just drop it off here at the bar, or put it back where you found it, I don't care. Just refer back to rule two if you're looking for inspiration to not just hold onto it.


[ attached is a typed out list of about ten things, which include Justin Taylor's sketch pad, Isaac Mendez' sketch pad, this gun, this shirt, this hat and this gun, and a couple more random things that people she was close to might've left behind I just can't think of them because it's 3am, hehh, all described just enough to know what she's looking for. ]

Oh, and if somebody wants to explain what the hell's been going on on this ship for the last few months? That'd be- great. I guess. [ which is her cue to grab a drink, yep ]

[Static. Lots and lots of static. Not that it much matters, because at the start, Marty's just rambling about random shit. Stupid little stories from home; there are probably other voices from the brig muffled here and there in the background as he makes his way from the small crowd of mutineers to record what is probably going to be a swan song affair. He's never been very good about any of this. Or particularly graceful. Accepting death is easier for him than it maybe should be, but he's not exactly wanting to die. Again. So. There's that.]

░░░▒▒▓▓▒▒░░ --ad idea. Anyway, ░░░▒▒▓▓▒▒░░. Maybe I should just do some ░░░▒.


Story time? I guess. [A little laugh; maybe a crazy one? He's not sure. He's exhausted. And maybe a little high.] There was once a jester, was friends with a noble ragtag team ░░░░░ -- there was a knight and his fair medic. Super attractive couple, I'll admit I'm jealous there. There was a scholar, and then there was a foxy fair maiden. They all decided to leave their domain for a little ░░░▒▒▒░░, but they didn't realize that someone had followed them. Someone from a cult, people who... Well, they liked to sacrifice people to make the Gods happy. Because gods are always sadistic fucks in a lot of stories, right?? This one can go eat a ▓▓▓▓▓▓. Anyway... The jester noticed something was amiss when they arrived to their eden of rest. But unfortunately, the cult's undead minions -- killed the kindly medic, left the group ▓ in shock. Wasn't much later that the jester got his dumb ass impaled on a garden shovel. Who does that, right?


Then... I mean, the jester didn't catalog a lot ▓▓it, but despite their best efforts, the remaining team couldn't leave. The cult had used ancient power to lock them all in a forcefield. ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ the knight was killed when he'd tried to find a way around it, and the scholar -- they got him, too. Eventually... it was just the fair minx of a maiden. Alone, with these -- these undead freaks. She fought so fucking hard, let me tell you. This maiden? She was secretly a warrior. She fucking survived.

[He smiles from behind the camera.]

Suddenly -- the jester! Holy crap, he's alive! You wouldn't even have guessed right? Scrawny little weirdo made it after all. ▒▒▒y bust through the zombies, find the cult's ancient lair, and descent with no where else to go. ▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒░░ Monsters. The cult had monsters of all kinds, all lore, hidden in the depths in cages. They would use these monsters to kill unsuspecting sacrifices, year after year, and so... so the fair maiden had an idea. Attacked from all fuckin' sides, the maiden warrior released all the monsters from their cages, and the cult didn't stand a chance against their own ▒▒▒▓▓▒▒░░▒▒▒▒░░. 

They made it to the ritual room -- and met the asshole leader of ancients. She told them that....

[There's a long pause. A thoughtful, sad one, really.]

She didn't tell them anything. Because the fair maiden put an ax through her head, and they -- the two got out. Together.

[He snorts a little.]

They probably figured they'd go on another trip to space, I bet, but that'd be kind of outlandish, huh?

H▒▒▒▓▓▒▒░░▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░... ░░░░░░

[The rest sort of fades into static off and on again.]
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]
 [First, the screen is black, and there's the sound of scuffling, possibly half-dragged feet.

Then the comms unit tilts and whirls — turns upward to reveal a sweat-drenched kid's face, slightly wild hair in need of a trim and plastered to his forehead. He doesn't seem to pay the screen much mind, looking ahead in what appears to be a random, dim hallway. Not very far from home base, but enough that he clearly should have thought this through better. But then, Takeshi hasn't noticed that, now that he's found himself in a particularly hot spot... well, the power suit's not blocking out the heat anymore (not like last month, but he doesn't even realize the ship is making things worse--); in fact, it's making things way worse, and it's clear by the pale skin and the nauseated face that it's actually giving him heat exhaustion. Probably didn't help that he was chasing after something for a few minutes before that, using up valuable coolness and energy.]

Sorry... I thought — I thought I saw a lady, but maybe it wasn't a lady. Maybe it coulda' been any kind... But I saw them go in the hallways... I wanted to stop them 'cus if they go too far, they're gonna get lost...

[He breathes heavy, blinking just as heavily. His head hurts, and he wants to get mad, but he's also kinda' tired. He finally addresses the feed, wiping at his face with a black-gloved hand, all leather, all heavy, grimacing his lips at the discomfort. He blinks hard and forces himself to refocus, even though he feels a little dizzy. Dizzy, but more determined. Or something close to it. He speaks a little louder:]

S'hot out here. They're gonna... get into trouble.

But I dunno' where I am now.

My power suit's... not... M'getting hot. I don't remember getting hot like this before. I think my suit's broken.

Did anyone see a person run in the hall? Did they see anybody? Maybe someone found them. I swear, I saw a person. I don' want them to die — people die and get lost too much. Like Chase... Don't want the monsters to get them. Someone tell them not to go no more.
14 January 2014 @ 11:21 pm
[Joker has had enough alcohol and pain killers -yes mixed what do you wanna fight about it- to actually consider voluntarily speaking to people.]

Hey. Bored people.

What're your feelings on AIs?
11 November 2013 @ 10:37 am
matin. elona. shu. names, or words?

he wants to keep us apart. wants to hurt her. us. there are more where he came from.

who are we, i wonder.

((ooc: sauron is one of those receiving different memories. but he is also a dirty liar, so come one come all for mild misinformation /o/ all replies will be anon with the same fail!encryption.

the names are purposefully incorrect, they are transliterated from his native language.))