[WOW THIS POST IS SO EXCITING no, psych. it's an average man, holding his communicator in such a way as to just film his average face and average neck and the average background behind him. yawn. he appears to be wearing some kind of red t-shirt, and his expression falls somewhere between neutral and friendly.]

You know, most every kid dreams about going to space at some point, but I gotta say this isn't exactly what I pictured after seeing Star Wars for the first time. No stars, for one thing--you'd figure that would be one of the perks. A whole lot of walls, though. I'd ask about the resident status of little green men, but that might actually be offensive. [SHRUG. his smile is easy, if a little self-deprecating.] I've always been a Xena guy, myself. Funny how things work out.

Okay, okay--I did have a question when I started this, I swear. As a special bonus, it won't even start an ethics debate. This is an open network, right? Like one big interstellar Craigslist, internet arguments and all. I've already done some of the recommended reading--very informative, by the way--but in my experience there's not much an FAQ can do to replace real... experience. So. What's one thing you wish someone had told you when you first showed up here? Anything at all, doesn't matter what. [one corner of his mouth twists up for a moment, as if to say well, what can you do?] Not sure how much I can offer in return right off the bat, but hey, give me a few weeks. I'll owe you one.

[he pauses, looking at the camera with a wry edge to his otherwise still friendly grin.]

Also. Has anyone been able to figure how we end up with the stuff in our lockers? I mean, the--selection process. Because I for one would love to know the reasoning behind this. [he lowers the camera slightly to reveal that he is, in fact, wearing this.] Not disputing the logo, by the way. Just curious.

[Tommy's transmitting this from the bar, where he basically has been living ever since his last post. He sounds a little distant, distracted, and very very drunk.] I had a wife back home. Jeanie... We married before I shipped out to Iraq. Never even had a chance to open our wedding gifts. [Gifts that he shot.] Never will, now. [BECAUSE HE SHOT THEM. Also, he's in space. Which is good, since she has a restraining order against him.]

I keep thinking about what I'd do if I ever saw her again. What I'd say... [How he'd make things right.]

I know I'm new here, but I can't be the only one missing someone. You all have somebody, right?

[He's quiet for a while, then:]

What would you say if you could see 'em again?

[OOC: To folks I owe tags to: I have not forgotten! Just gonna play catch up later today.]

[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?

[it’s taken him a few days, but Francis has sort of kind of gotten the hang of this comms device. he’s also since retrieved his bow and quiver from his locker and sort of familiarised himself with the ship, though he still keeps mainly to himself, stalking the halls in silence

almost like he’s patrolling

because he sort of is. see, Ataraxion, he’s looking for something. and that something is specifically robots, since he knows there are some on the ship, thanks to Ult!Tony building one on the network a few days ago. and by god, he is going to rid this ship if every last robot because no, robots are bad, mmkay?

but hey, might as well make a lesson out of it, right?]

All right, so. I don’t know if you people noticed? But there are robots on this ship, and unless you all want to be disintegrated, I suggest you watch and learn.

[he sneaks into what looks like the same room where Ults!Tony was building his bird earlier, setting down his device and unslinging his bow where everyone can see. he very carefully nocks an arrow, taking aim at a small helper-bot that doesn’t look entirely unlike WALL-E, breathing out and letting the arrow fly. it’s a direct hit and the robot sparks and twitches before going completely still. Francis looks utterly pleased with himself]

You hit them hard and fast, and don’t let them see you. The sooner we get rid of them all, the safer we’ll be. Trust me on this.

[And then Ults!Tony walks in (clothed this time) and looks down at the broken remains of his helper bot. He sighs and rubs his temples.]

Alright, did you do this? I told you, Ultron was not my fault.

So? Robots are robots, or did you miss that part? [stubborn teen is stubborn]

[ Carolyn is sitting in her room instead of lurking around the shuttle bay for once. The reason why should be clear after a few minutes, when an orange tabby pokes his head out from behind her before plopping himself on her lap. Carolyn honestly just looks like she has no idea what to do for a moment before reaching to scratch him behind the ears, speaking to the camera as she does. ]

Some of you might recognize this cat as Jones, who belongs to Ellen Ripley. For those of you who knew her, it appears that she's gone home. I'll be looking after him for her.

[ Still petting the cat, she clears her throat. ]

For those of you who don't know me, my name is Carolyn Fry. On the Tranquility I'm part of the flight crew, but back home I was a pilot and captain of a merchant ship -- a spaceship. As a result, I've been helping people out with basic skills to work on in space. Last month we held a training session on health, fitness, nutrition, shuttle procedures, and basic evacuation. In the case that either myself or Ripley vanished and to keep a copy for anyone who wasn't able to make it or wasn't on the ship, we recorded the session.

[ A link pops up, opening an area on the network that contains a brief description of the session and a link to the video. ]

I'll be posting the videos of future sessions in this spot, if everyone would like to keep an eye on it and update their information posts, that sort of thing. If you have any questions, about this or anything else, feel free to ask.

[ locked to 005 » 075 ]
I need a drink. You in?

[ locked to FLIGHT CREW ]
We should all get together.

Hey, Tranquilized!

I know you're all working on a calender, bUT by my mark it's Septemeber 10th. So in two days it's Miles Edgeworth's birthday. Active invites to anybody who knows he'd want him there, and if you're an a--a jerk trying to gatecrash I will hit you with a taser and some rebar. So don't. Especial invites to John Watson, Jack New York Face, Alayne Wolf Girl, Sirius I Won't Eat Your Dude Parts, Jenna Awesome Weed Lady, and Jane Jesse's Girl.

Tenth floor common area, unless anybody has a better place.

[filtered from miles edgeworth]

Does anyone know how to make a cake? Or like...punch? Or party food in general? I got decorations, just--I can't cook. I can pay. Like, a lot.

[open | amended later]

This party isn't obligatory.

[open | even later]

And you don't need to bring presents!

[ With a slight shake, the feed clicks on. It is very, very quiet. There's a girl staring blankly into the camera, no older than eighteen or nineteen; the only suggestion that audio is even working is the slight static filtering through. For a minute or two, all she does is stare, wide eyes owlishly blinking at the screen. This stretches on for a little while — there's no morse code embedded in her blinking either — just staring with the quiet crackly hum in the background.

Then, eventually, just before it gets a little too awkward: ]

I am Operative Rosella. 010 » 022. [ Two blinks, followed by a frown: it's a pretty shocking thing to see on such a previously blank expression. ] As a new passenger I do not understand our objective on board the Tranquility. Are we to kill to survive until only one remains? [ Her frown deepens. ] From my understanding, our arena changes frequently. This is my hypothesis. I wish to hear from anyone with previous experience and a deeper understanding from their stay here. Recreational activities such as sports and the care of animals seems frivolous and a use of our time.

[ Without a smile or another glance upwards, the feed cuts to black. ]

Hello Tranquility. I'm sure you didn't miss me so let's get right to the point just like usual.

A little while back people were talking about group meals. I don't know about the rest of you, but the mystery meat lucky dip in the kitchens is getting pretty rough. I skip meals, and I know I'm not the only one. Most importantly, we got kids on board and I want to make sure at the very least they're getting two meals a day, and if we get more kids this jump I want to establish whether or not we've got a full time guardian on board who can look out for them if they're alone. Hell, it's beginning to look like we should set up a school. It'd work out better than having kids just wandering around the place. If that about fits your job description give me a shout, see what we can do.

Back on the topic of dinner: I know a lot of people haven't got anything to offer someone if they make the mess their job, but if we can get some volunteers in, I'm sure the people on board who can will find a way to show their gratitude. We need this now, not in six months time when we're all coming down sick from not eating properly, so if you got the skill, don't think you gotta bother asking for permission or go showing your hand, just muck in when and where you can. Some of you already do, but if we can get something more formal going, I know that I and a lot of others are gonna be dead grateful.

Which brings me to the Jump. If you haven't got anyone in your own circle to keep track of you, speak to Miles Edgeworth. Sitting out the Jump is not optional. You go to the Jump bay on time, or you get turned into a splodge of space-slime, and it ain't pretty.

After the Jump, for those of you who didn't notice last time, a lot of basic things happen. Some people go around making sure their own groups are in one piece, others are in it only for themselves. If you're feeling great and you're not gonna be of any use, get the hell out so we know what we got to work with without things getting too congested. People from security usually volunteer to help newcomers and protect people from anyone who takes their arrival on board badly, but you should know it's a pretty thankless, sometimes dangerous job.

For anyone who comes in injured, or anyone disoriented after the Jump, there's a med team and a group of volunteers stationed down there. You'd be surprised how much a cup of coffee helps people get their sea legs. If someone looks lost, answer their questions, but be understanding--try and remember what it was like you for you.

Let's make this Jump smooth, and for once leave nobody behind.

...So, I've got a question to ask everyone here. I guess after the last big event I've been kind of dwelling on it. There was a lot of pannic and confusion, and not everyone got out alright-

I want to teach a class. Not space basics, or engineering basics, though those go hand-in-hand.

I want to teach survival skills. Skills we're going to need if we're going to keep dealing with these horrors and terrors and who knows what the hell else. I can teach people how to jury rig survival equipment - it doesn't matter the age, kids and adults are both welcome, if there's enough interest. But I just-

I don't want anyone to have to handle things like I did the first time around.

So what do you all think? Is it worth gathering a group together - maybe in the Engineering deck, and teaching you how to survive in a space crisis?

Clarke out.

[ Data appears on screen. As before, to those who have never seen him (for the most part those who don't frequent the science department or sickbay), Data is almost indiscernible from being human at first glance, but the second impression is further from it. There are slight mannerisms he can't get quite right, his head is rigid, his attention fixed, his hair too perfect, and though there are imperfections to his skin, it's noticeably tinted gold, like his eyes. ]

With the decline of our medical staff, it is imperative that efforts be made to create a baseline model of all individual life forms on board. Such precautions may help to stymy another outbreak of stasis sickness, or counteract an otherwise similar ailment in the future.

Doctor McCoy employed me to build him secure quarters in which to safely contain not only this information, but medical histories and samples from the Tranquility's passengers. This construction is now complete, meaning that willing patients may now place their complete trust in doctor/patient confidentiality.

[ There is a brief delay. Spot, his ginger cat, jumps up onto the counter, but is quickly shooed down out of the way, and Data resumes his speech. ]

I would like to suggest that any of those on board with rare or unique physiology report to either Xenobiology in the Science Department, or Medbay itself in regard to collecting samples, cataloging DNA and performing scans of your skeletal and biological structures. All information gathered shall make treating you easier in case of illness or injury, and may indeed save your life.

Data out.

------

( Filtered to medbay staff )

[Friday morning]
[It's just one message after another with this guy.]

hey tilman

tilman

dude

u kno how 2 make an omlate

omlet?

omlay do fromadge

yo can u show me how 2 do this or not

im hungry

Given all the rah rah rah for morality that I've seen lately, I figure the topic should be broached.

To me, it doesn't makes a difference and that's what's taken me so long to get to it. If kids want to drink, they're going to find a way to get to what they want. Not to mention, I hardly hold the monopoly on alcohol. [ he's getting to his point in a very roundabout way, yes. ] I'd also like to say that there isn't a day that goes by that I don't see at least one person drinking on camera, drunk texting or boasting about their inebriated state in some manner or another. More often than not, they're what I'd consider underage. And I'm not inclined to give much of a shit about where the product is going because I'm not profiting from it specifically in monetary value.

We don't have a set legal system. Each of us are from countries or worlds where the age cap varies or is completely irrelevant.

That being said, my point is: should there be an age restriction on those I knowingly permit into [ hm, no he's not going to say my ] an establishment where drinking and partying could lead to one thing and then another? I've seen an awful lot of preaching about save the children. God forbid we overlook their sweet, virgin eyes. If we're going to be stuck together for an indefinite amount of time, this might as well be addressed to [ huh, okay, what word does he want to use with you assholes? ] keep the peace. Or something like it. So, let's have it.

Don't care, couldn't be made to care or alternatively, open it to discussion. [ he's bored enough to let strangers and friends bicker at him and among each other. ] And if you were hired by myself or my [ other half ] business partner, report.

[ the camera angle lowers like he's done or ready to shut it off, instead he's scratching behind his ear and shifting his jaw to begrudgingly announce: ] Oh, and by the way, for those of you that knew him.. I think it's safe to finally assume that Justin Taylor has gone home. [ or wherever the fuck people who aren't dead but simply gone go, he doesn't say but his condescending and bitter fucking uncomfortable smirk implies. ]

[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.

 [Welcome back to another exciting adventure in the world of Topher Brink. There's a methodical clanking of tools and, once again, it seems Topher has turned his communicator on with the purpose of saying something, and then gotten distracted. Luckily, you're not stuck with ten minutes of dead silence with the actual sounds of someone working. In fact, it's only a few seconds before he starts talking.]

Sometimes I really think I'm the only one who doesn't spend an hour of every... relative day, I guess, thinking how bad I wanna go home. Don't get me wrong. I didn't get possessed by demons or nearly assimilated into a hive mind or chewed on by hellbeasts back home, and all of those things suck, but... It's not that bad. Everyone dies eventually, right? Why not die in space. ...Okay, so it's a touch cynical and I know- I'm terrifying the children. Cover their ears, ban that last bit from future broadcasts, whatever... The point is...

[There's a pause, followed by a pained noise, because genius here probably pinched his fingers or something.] The point is, uh... [Oh, did he have a point? He totally had one.]

... I don't remember what the point is, but I'll tell you something else. Hayley's post got me thinking about the whole... lack of dates thing. And I know it doesn't mean much to most of you, but it was, like... Late May or something when I showed up here and I've been here for eight months now, which means if time in space weren't so kerflooey, it'd be late January. So that means I'm 28 years old now, which... Yeah, that means exactly what I'm implying.

And this is not some big extravagant plea for gifts or attention or anything. I was just thinking about how this time last year, my birthday went by unnoticed and most of the time... Yeah, let's just say I've never had many people to celebrate it with. But here... If I said I wanted to gather some of my buddies up and sit in a common room and... I dunno, raid the library for something watchable and eat cake... It could happen. Not that I'm suggesting that either, because I have my doubts about whether the library has the best kind of bad science fiction when we're living the best kind of bad science fiction, but I could do it. And that means a lot to me.

Ah, I found my way back to the point. With all the bad stuff that happens here and the imminent badness continuing to loom over us and the fact that we miss the people we left behind back home... We can't forget that for some of us... This stupid ship has actually given us something. Fresh starts, the families we never knew we needed, friends, whatever. And that's a good thing.

[There's a thoughtful sigh.] I dunno. It does kinda make a guy wonder what happens if we do all go home. Sure, we lose all the bad things, but what about the stuff we actually wanna remember?

[ on flips the feed, and the sleeve of someone's jumpsuit is the first thing that is seen. It’s not exactly intentional, just Ariadne attempting to situate herself on the floor of her cabin before she addresses the network properly. ]

Um…I guess I should start by saying; Hi. [ she starts out casually, letting her device finally focus up on her face, as she offers the network a ghost of a smile. ] I know some of you don't exactly know me – which happens – it's a big ship. [ a beat, her hand going to the back of her neck as she unconsciously starts to rub it, quickly thinking out her next few words. ] But I've been here…going on ten months, maybe? [ she's honestly not exactly sure the exact time frame anymore, but whatever it is now, it's been a long ass time and she feels like she can at least say something about things now. ]

Anyway... [ she sighs, her head bobbing slightly as she lets out a small hum at her next few thoughts. ] I know we have security and all – I honestly don't see any reason to change that - but we shouldn’t be expecting them to be looking out for everyone – it's not possible – there's too many of us for that.

So…[ on to the point of her actually even addressing the network. ] has anyone thought about maybe creating floor monitors - people that could honestly focus their attention on the people on their own floors? [ a beat, her nose crinkling slightly ] And no, not someone that pries into everyone's business - just someone that at least would know the goings on with their floors. And yeah I know people have mentioned the buddy system - which is a good idea to a point. But I still think floor monitors might be something we should look into.

I don't know. Maybe this has already been mentioned as a thought. But it just seems like a good idea to know your neighbors.

[ she stops there, again offering the network a faint smile, shrugging a shoulder slightly as she does, figuring if people honestly had thoughts to add or questions, they would. so she doesn't exactly feel the need to expand further on her thoughts here.

but not a second later and another thought occurs to her, and she is adding: ] Also, I'm looking at redoing the maps – adding things and what not – if anyone has anything to offer with that, I'd welcome the help.

[ Judging by the background, Carolyn's in the shuttle bay today. It's fitting, because that's where she's been for most of the past month, but she hasn't spoken up in a while. Today she is, however, having cleaned up a bit from working on the shuttles with a slight smile on her face as she addresses the camera. ]

Tranquility, this is Carolyn Fry. Some of you may recall that Ellen Ripley and I have been talking about training people on the ship so that they're better equipped to deal with living in space. We're happy to announce that we'll be starting up our first session at [ insert time here ].

We'll be meeting in the shuttle bay. For those of you who don't know how to get here, Ripley will be waiting by the lift in the passenger quarters to show you the way. For everyone else, I'll be waiting here for when you arrive. A recording of the session will be available afterwards but we really encourage everyone to come in person -- we're going to be running some drills and getting a bit hands-on with some things. In addition, even if you already know a thing or two about life in space, this could be a good refresher -- or you could bring up something we miss, you never know.

If anyone has any questions before we begin, I'm happy to answer them. Thank you and I hope to see you all there.

((ooc: An open log can be found here!))

[ 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.