[Thankfully you can't see anything below bare shoulders this time, but here's Juliana, hair oddly perfect and a beatific smile on her face.]

After that... [SHUDDER.] terribly ominous happening--by the way, those of you who didn't tell me this place was horrible, shame on you--I have something much more important to discuss. It's been clear that none of you know what to do with a goddess in your midst. It's quite simple. Respect.

[She points at the viewer.] I can't watch every one of you, but I trust that you're all working hard for the good of everyone, aren't you?

[A smile, then she looks confused.] That wasn't my point. My point... My... point...

Oh, yes! My point. I'm told there are "hobos" aboard. I'd like to meet one, for comparative purposes. Assistance is appreciated. New experiences are wonderful, aren't they?

[ooc; I will be slow Friday through Sunday, but will try to intermittently tag back in the evenings.]

I, um-- Hello. It's Kurt. I went home for a while, so I might have missed a few things. Here's hoping the space horror has been decidedly minimal lately.

So, I... I have a favor to ask. Is anyone here familiar with...psychology? I understand that things are always rather hectic around here and everyone has their own agenda, but... Well, I'd like to have a talk with you. You don't have to be a professional, but--you know, some experience would be preferable.

You'll have to forgive me if I ask for a bit of a background check first, since it's pretty common knowledge that there are always unsavory characters around here. It's for a friend, by the way. Not-- I'm all right. I will be, anyway.

[ Locked to Team Jailbait or what's left of it; 60% unhackable ------ ]

So, um... How many of us are left?

[It's short and simple.]

I know all of us here have lost at least one person on this ship. So let me ask you...

When did you start feeling like you're always the one left behind?

[Kurt's voice sounds sort of...different. It's somehow deeper than usual--as deep as his voice can get, anyway--and has a strange, flat sort of quality, as if he's holding something back.]

I'm tired of pretending like everything's okay.

Horrible things have happened. People have--left. There were monsters. There was...Strela. And I think, oh, everyone else can handle it. They're all fighters. This is par for the course for a lot of you guys, right? Because you're strong. Because you aren't some silly little teenager whose biggest concerns are a cheating boyfriend and a failed musical theater audition, right?

[He takes in a single deep, shuddering breath.]

But then I think-- It any of this supposed to be normal? When does it become okay to be desensitized, to stop letting all of this get to you? Is that when this place--this ship, everything on it-- Is that when they win?

Maybe I'm weak and pathetic. But I'm trying so hard to make things feel normal here, but I can't just shrug off how badly I want to just--scream, just curl up somewhere and scream and scream because all of this is just so freaking insane.

Ugh. [Pause.] I'm sorry. [Disconnect.]

[ooc note; So someone's finally been succumbing to his mask. You can blame some recent events. :|b]

H-Hello, it's Kurt. Is everyone--well, all right? As all right as possible, I mean. I'm just checking in, in case that--that fog comes back again, or something.

I realize it's probably a technical issue, but you can't blame me for thinking it might be something a little more...well, bizarre. This ship is sort of famous for that kind of thing.

[ Locked to Team Jailbait; 60% unhackable ------ ]

So I think it's about time we do what Hayley suggested. I mean-- Maybe not now, but we should at least get together and make sure we're all in one piece. I don't want anyone wandering off on their own.

I'm worried about all of you.

[ooc; Filter includes everybody who's sort of in the circle now, including newbies! Also Quinn, you can assume Kurt contacted you first.]

[ the feed starts of shaky, and red due to quinn's hand being over the lens. a few seconds later she is visible in the music room. she still isn't looking great. there are bags under her eyes and her hair is messy and limp. it's also obvious she doesn't realize the camera is on as she moves about the music room.

she sits down at the piano. she's been playing it a lot more since arriving on the ship. maybe because it's something thats both tangible and relatively normal. she plays a few random notes, and then stops and sighs. for a moment it looks like she is going to get up, but then she sighs and starts to play lana del rey's "born to die." it's a stripped down version, and maybe a bit more raw. ]

Feet don't fail me now
Take me to the finish line
Oh my heart it breaks every step that I take
But I'm hoping at the gates,
They'll tell me that you're mine...

[ she continues to play, and sing the song. her voice cracks a bit, but it doesn't stop her. ]

Come on take a walk on the wild side
Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain
You like your girls insane
Choose your last words,
This is the last time
Cause you and I
We were born to die...

[ she finishes the song, still completely unaware that she's live. when she's done she sighs and then rests her head in her hands. she's tired. tired of the ship. tired of everything that happens on the ship. just so ...tired. ]

So.

[ well hey, you guys, have a new face on the feed today. he's one of the new arrivals, trying to get used to this new space lifestyle!! which means friends are... probably a good thing. maybe. he's not sure yet, but he knows he needs to meet people. the ~general populace~, so to speak. ]

Space, huh?

[ wait no. he kind of frowns at that. worst opener. but then he considers all the posts that he's seen (memorized) since he's arrived and well, this ain't so bad. ]

I was... woooonnndering, uh. How many of you are from... New York City? Circa... 2011 or 2012. Ish.

[ man this is chalking up to be one of the most awkward experiences of his life. it's just-- this is like skype alright, except when you use skype you usually know who you're talking to-- here? way different. haha posting to a network, that's weird.

he is usually not this bad but you are also all strangers so. yeah. wait, here's a good idea. i mean, he has a lot of free time now so-- ]

Oh yeah and uh, does anyone know where I could get a camera? Thanks.

[ does he end the post now DOES HE END THE POST NOW he totally ends the post now! yes! good job, mike ross. you successfully completed the goal of posting a video post to the network. next time, maybe have an idea of what you want to talk about beforehand. ]

[ The video is currently displaying the bar/club's ceiling that Brian and Wichita have been running and there's some glass like clinking going on as Justin rummages around underneath the bar, checking on stock. ]

If anything is missing from the bar, my CDs or my art supplies, I'm doing a shipwide cavity search. And putting Brian in charge. You should know he's not gentle unless you ask real nice or suck him off first.

Also, should anyone feel the taste for guava juice, I happen to be the proud owner of a bottle. [ See a jug of guava juice being shaken in front of the camera. It was in his locker, it is obviously his to do whatever he pleases with. With that, Justin pops up in front of the screen, arms folding on the bar as he gives a kind of lopsided smile and runs a hand through his hair. He's missed out on about three months and there's a lot of people around now he doesn't recognize. ]

Consider this an invite to come partake in what spirits we have lying around in this place. Just please don't pass out in the booths, because I can and will drag you out on your ass and leave you in the most awkward spot on the ship I can find, clothes optional.

So. What'd I miss?

[ The video clicks on and there's Chase--smiling, if gently. She looks like nothing at all has happened to her, asides from maybe going on a pleasant stroll through the oxygen gardens. ]

Those that have come out of the fog, congratulations. I trust you're all back safe, if emotionally harmed. Please seek assistance from the designated persons aboard this ship if this is your case.

Furthermore--be it the mist or rust, please be aware that it's the least of our problems. The endgame, as it were, is still to try to figure out why we're here. God may have willed it, but there's always need for a further explanation. Please keep this in mind while investigating the ship, if you so wish to do so.

And, lastly, if anyone has some chalk, I'd like it. [ A beat. ] I want to learn how to play hopscotch.

Hey. I, uh... I know things went fucking crazy for a while there.

[Well, this isn't an easy post. But then... He knows he's gotta at least throw it out there. Heather's missing (god, please don't be dead, please don't be dead), and Murphy's hurt and Anne's probably freaking out for his well-being. So. He's gonna just get it over with. Sure, he'll probably get some pretty bad replies, but honestly? He's already fucked up anyway. Got some nasty injuries from some of those fights and he's not planning on leaving the room until the jump happens. Or at least, he'll try not to leave the room. We'll see how that pans out.

He runs a hand through his hair. If Heather had caused this, then... Keeping everyone focused elsewhere would be good. And if it's not her? Then hell, it probably is him, or something. He did piss off two whole towns in one swoop.

His voice is raw, hoarse from the miserable time the last week's unleashed.]

Listen.

The place you were at—I've been there before. Back home. It's was a bunch of supernatural bullshit that might be from a place called Silent Hill. I... used to live next door to it, in the neighboring town. Came back home after a few years and walked right into an empty Shepherd's Glen and some secret cult and their weird mystic shit... Almost didn't make it out of there myself. A pact broken with my town caused everything there to turn into what you just went through now. The otherworlds, the monsters, the puzzles, everything.

... I don't know how it got here. I don't honestly know. Hell, I don't even know most of what happened to where I used to live. But I do know that it was from my world, right the fuck next door, wherever the hell my world is supposed to be out in space. There's nothing I can do to change that, and I'm sorry. I wish I knew how all of this even went the way it did. But if there's anything I can tell you about it, I'll do my best. There's not a lot I even understand, but you deserve at least that much.

[A breath. His chest feels tight. What else can he even do? He drops his face in his hands, sighing.]

... Being in the dark wouldn't be fair to any of you. I'm—

I'm really sorry.

[Kurt is curled up on his bed, looking sleepy and ruffled. He's gnawing on one end of a pen thoughtfully, looking a bit vexed.]

I can't sleep.

Normally I'd pass the time working on my play, but I'm having a bit of writer's block. I'm just--not sure how to end it. The play is about the Tranquility and the things that have happened here, from a--unique perspective, so the story hasn't ended in real life yet. But the play needs to end...

I could reunite the star-crossed lovers at the end, but it needs to be realistic. [Right.] I don't want the story to lose its impact. But I don't think the main character should end up alone, either.

[Hrm.] A happy ending? A tragic one? Bittersweet? I'm just not sure what direction to go in.

Any suggestions?

[Cameron doesn't appear distressed at all. She considered that she should, but it's too late to fix it now, the device is on. Even though people take distress more seriously if you're injured, she doesn't want to cut up her face just to get a quick answer.

Her voice isn't monotone, but it's abnormally mellow considering what she has to say.]

Hello. I'm looking for my brother. I think he came through here, and I need to find him. He could be in very grave danger.

His name is John. He is five feet, ten inches tall, and he has short brown hair. [A pause, while she considers the likelihood that Sarah is here, too. If she is, she'll be the one people will have noticed; she's louder.] My mother may be with him. Her name is Sarah.

[Tate is standing in the disaster that's left of Crane's abandoned room when he makes this broadcast; and while the video evidence of what Tate's done to the place isn't there, there's a waspish crack to his voice that betrays how upset he is, an upending that's left him teetering on the brink of something awful.

but then again, he's never spoken like this over the network, and anyone who knows him might be able to tell that something's terribly wrong, even if the monologue sounds like nothing more than conspiracy. but his words sound eerily like an epitaph.]


You know what's the most fucked up thing about this place? That we're pulled up here like it's some kind of game. We just get plucked out of our lives like puppets that've been waiting on the shelf, and you know what we do about it? Nothing. Because it's like hey, we've just been taken away from all our problems back home and that's nice, right? This is one big goddamn vacation. And then they give us all these people that we're supposed to work with, people we've never met and people who don't even know what a fucking computer is and it's like fucking Survivor.

This thing, it's playing with us. It gives us people and we're happy about it and then it takes them away and all it does is make everyone scared. When is the next person gonna be gone? Who's gonna die next? And you know what? Soon someone's not gonna be able to take it anymore. People are gonna turn on each other. Like animals. And that's exactly what it wants.

We jump when Smiley says jump, and we cry and we kill because we're part of some kind of bigger plan this thing is weaving for us. This place has got everyone spooked, and you're all just worried about the ghost in the machine. About figuring this shit out.

But it's fucking pointless. It's no different being up here than it is on planet Earth. We're gonna be up here until these things in charge decide they don't want us here anymore, and then we're all gonna be fucking wishing that we'd never tried in the first place. We're all gonna be wishing that whoever snapped first just fucking did it and put us all out out of our misery.

[ T E X T;; ENCRYPTED 100% to TEAM JAILBAIT ( aka: the group Wichita went into the maze with ) ]

i'm bar tending at the night club thing for the next few hours but it's empty so you all should come hang out so i don't have to drink alone. and i know i'm not supposed to drink while working but i already started so nothing you say can convince me to stop. if you "don't drink" then pretend i just spent a ton of time peer pressuring you to do so and come anyway. or you know don't drink and just come hang out. please. and thanks.

brendan bring the thing.

-----

[ T E X T;; ENCRYPTED 100% to ARIADNE ]

on behalf of brendan frye i'd like to apologize for his kleptomaniacal ways and invite you to the night club to come pick up the chess piece he stole from you.



[ ooc: and HERE is the log! ]

You know what I miss? I miss getting drunk.

The simple pleasures of life. Perhaps the taste of peanut brittle! Or the view you get when a gal in a particularly short skirt bends over to flash whatever's underneath. Flowers in spring or some stupid shit like that, whatever people get their jollies off on. Scratch the peanut brittle thing, actually. In retrospect, peanut brittle is fucking disgusting.

[ Bartleby's sitting at one of the kitchen counters it seems, an elbow propped on the surface, his head tilted against a fist. He looks thoughtful, and yet sounds aggravated. Sardonic. ]

You know what I don't miss? Assholes who get lost for weeks inside a never-ending corn maze with less corn and more maze without even bothering to leave their phone on. Can you believe the damn cretinism that has to go into something so careless as that? Is it retardation, I ask of you? No, for that is too simple an answer. I don't miss Wisconsin. Nobody misses Wisconsin.

Also the Spice Girls. I really don't miss the Spice Girls. I'm probably pushing my luck with saying that one aloud.

[For quite some time, Walter has been shuffling about, sitting in corners and observing things on his own time. Perhaps you've seen him in passing, but he surely hasn't spoken a word since he woke up on the ship. He's still not certain if he's alive, dead, or somewhere in-between.

Though he did consider his communicator before, he simply didn't know what to say to it until now. And even so, he doesn't think he has enough to say to warrant a video like so many others posted on the feed. He just wants to try and speak for now. Baby steps! So if you're tuning in to his post, you'll hear a few moments of hesitated breathing, with the timid voice of a 30-something man with all the social grace and experience of someone only half his age following.]

It's lonely here. Lonely and cold.

Feels like home.

[there's a sharp exhale, as if he's silently laughing at himself.]

I'm not the only one who thinks that, am I?

The device isn't actually all that hard to use. There are three basic functions: voice, video, and text. If you're not from a place where you grew up with a QWERTY keyboard it may be harder to use the text function, but I doubt anyone here really cares if they can hear your voice or not.

The voice and video functions are more self-explanatory and don't require as much technical knowledge.

If you need to keep something a secret, don't say it over your device. The ship's not that big. Someone can always listen in. Even if you don't think they will? Someone will. And if you're sure your encryptions are unbreakable, I would still not have it anywhere that if someone found your device they might be able to get someone else to dig up your history.

[A pause.]

Sorry, for the people who knew Sherlock.

[Well. That was awkward.]

[There really is no segue-in for this. Just soft music playing quietly for a while--a little static-y, as if it were playing on an old-fashioned record player--and then about a third of the way through a beautiful voice starts singing, hitting every high note perfectly.]

Wishing you were somehow here again
Wishing you were somehow near.
Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here.

Wishing I could hear your voice again
Knowing that I never would.
Dreaming of you won't help me to do all that you dreamed I could.

[The voice stops singing and the rest of the song plays through, and that's all there is. He said he's sing for everyone on the ship someday, but didn't think it would be like this.]