[ Close up on Quinlan's face as he frowns in to the video feed and adjusts his comms device. Seemingly satisfied with the feed he sits back from the video feed and levels it with a stony look. His default expression, nowadays. ]

This ship has a habit of turning your mind against you. For those of you who find it useful - [ hey fellow jedi heyy ] - the oxygen gardens are good for meditation, especially the upper levels. Ground yourself, respect the life there, be mindful of the Living Force around you - and perhaps you'll find some peace.

[ And for the majority of the ship that's the end of the message! Those damn hippy Jedi! But for a select few from a galaxy far, far away there's an additional message attached: ]

FILTERED to Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Bail Organa, Han Solo, Luke Skywalker & Lucien Draay:

So. We've got five Jedi, a senator, and - [ deadeyes ] - whatever Solo is. So that's seven -- seven of us, all from the same galaxy and all from different points in time. Small paths in one long journey.

For my own part, I know enough about the future - [ his expression turns grim, distant, ] - the Clone Wars end, peace returns to the galaxy. I know the role I play in the events. The Force guides me -- and I will do what I must. You needn't tell me any more. [ A pause, a gruff nod. ] Each one of you can decide for yourself how much of your future you want to know. I won't make that decision for you. But we all need to be clear.
06 May 2013 @ 11:05 am
Oh, my god.

[ stiles' voice has the kind of self-contained excitement in it that someone might get upon being given a quad bike for their fourteenth birthday. or, you know, a pony. there's that same kind of delighted anticipation of fun times ahead. ]

You guys will not believe what I found.

[ his voice is pitchy and he's in close up in the dim light, eyes wide and too-dark in his pale face, before he turns to film... well. ]

An actual freaking body!

[ which is all the warning given for the squeamish before it's on camera. the body is very clearly human, even if all its distinguishing features have been removed. its pieces join unnaturally together, arm sewn to shoulder to torso to leg, and the whole thing hangs suspended from several strings, like a puppet. ]

[ stiles fumbles the camera back to himself. he swallows. it's cool, but also, you know, he's kind of creeped himself out already just wondering if the killer might still be around. but that's not exactly a thought he's about to put voice to. ]

I'm about fifteen minutes heading left from the Shuttle Bay, I think, if someone wants to come cut it down.

(( as per dex and bri's excellent adventure. eta action for investigators. ))
30 April 2013 @ 10:12 am
[Godric has been scarce during the invasion by the Scylla's crew, and for good reason. But he's been paying attention. He's in the emergency shuttle bay when he turns on the video, and evidence of the pirates is immediately apparent. There are supplies and equipment, some of it packed away, some of it scattered on the floor in disarray. But more concerning are the devices attached to the walls, the floor, and even the door -- clearly explosives of some sort. An escape plan, or a defensive perimeter. It would be more alarming, but for the fact that all the devices look still and quiet, void of frightening red lights or ominous noises.

Perhaps most eye-catching of all is the message written above the two tubes protruding from the outer hull of the Tranquility:


Godric turns the video onto himself, and addresses anyone watching.]

It seems our friend has left us a note.

[Usually, this would be locked to Security. But with Tyke out of commission, it's probably a moot point.]
26 April 2013 @ 05:39 am
[ When these sort of announcements go up, John is usually one of the people replying to them, waiting for orders or confirming them. He hasn't stepped into a leadership role on the ship, hasn't even been too social, and he's been just fine with that. But Tyke's injured, in Medical, and she had sent him a message: "Take SEC".

And so he does.

It's not his first time giving orders, though it's been some time, and he doesn't like to think about those last times. Still, John's the picture of a good Marine when the camera flicks on, the chain of his dog tags visible around his collar. ]

Tranquility, this is Staff Sergeant John Grimm. [ "Reaper" lies unsaid, his handle lurking on his tongue and in the tattoo hidden under his sleeve. ] We've done a thorough sweep and the pirates are all either dead or captured. You're clear to return to work and to your rooms. Anyone injured should report to Medical, if they haven't done so already.

Anything the pirates taken hasn't been put back yet. If you want to do inventory on what's missing [ or where, he thinks; they were just practically ripping the walls apart in some places, after all ] then we can work on getting things back to where they belong.

[ Beat. ]

You may all be wondering why I'm telling you this instead of Tyke. She's [ his gaze flickers for a moment, taking a breath; he's worried ] currently out of commission and had me take Security until she recovers. I don't know any more than that at this time.

[ And he's fairly certain Tyke wouldn't want him to go around dropping details about how he's doing anyway. Now's the part where John looks a bit awkward, like he's not sure how to finish up. ]

If you have questions, ask them.


If you're not injured, I want to add the brig and surrounding area to your patrols. When Tyke comes back, she can make her own judgment call.
11 April 2013 @ 08:30 pm
[Alex debates on even making this message. But he feels people have the right to know. And for whatever reason, he feels like it's his job to make it.]

Not sure if anyone really cares, but Erik Lehnsherr, Magneto, whatever, is gone.

Fucker reappears up, loses his fucking arm, and then disappears again.

[Maybe October was right. Place is turning into a damn soap opera, with all the changes of dramatis personae]

Fucking tired of it.

Whoever's pulling the strings, bet you think it's really fucking funny.

Well I'm not laughing.

11 April 2013 @ 11:49 am
So now that we've got ship kittens, it got me thinking about some things.

Anybody here have a family? Are they with you here? Or your best friend? Hell, even your pets. I'm kinda curious as to the state of things, especially right after the jump.

[Locked to Ult!Tony and Bela:]

I'm fine, just in case you were gonna ask.
09 April 2013 @ 02:55 pm
[The feed clicks on to show Taylor sat in the security office. The jump usually leaves her unwilling to really deal with people for a few days, and she doesn't precisely look friendly, expression set level and maybe slightly annoyed. Not interested in messing around, which only becomes clearer as she starts talking.]

I don't do the welcome committee, so I'm gonna keep this short as. My name's Tyke, I'm first wave and I'm head of SEC here on the Tranquility. The Security team are here to keep you safe and alive, and we do that job because this ship is going to try and kill you, or maim you, or fuck with your head. You can be stupid, or you can help us out by letting us deal with the real problems instead of dealing with you.

The rules we enforce among passengers are basic. You don't steal or damage each other's belongings or the ship, you don't assault each other, and you don't kill each other. If you break any of these rules we will take action. Punishment is decided case-by-case - we have a brig, we run infractions by Captain Ward. So don't ask me 'what would you do if'. I'm sick of hearing it.

It's additionally strongly advised you do not enter the unlit central sections of the ship. Whole place is hostile territory, but the dark is where the real fucked up lives. So stay out of it, if you want better odds.

If you've got a fighting, military or police background, we could use your skills on our team. If you don't have any of those skills but are still interested, we offer training. But keep in mind what you're signing up for. I run recruitment, contact me or Miles Edgeworth to schedule assessment.

[A pause, and she glances off camera at something briefly before adding,]

There's a dog here. German Shep. [And because she knows what response some people might give,] No, it's not mine.

06 April 2013 @ 03:26 pm
[The last time she addressed the network, Bela was in a sorry state: drunk, fed-up and angry at the world. Now, she's much more calm and composed, but with an expression that suggests that she means business.]

I'm looking to do a little trading with those who have what I need.

[A pause to emphasise how important this was.]

The list is as follows:

Hair conditioner, moisturiser, toothpaste..well, any kind of toiletries really. Something a bit more upmarket than what we get here.

Trivial as those may be, if I'm going to be on board and without access to a shopping district, I think I could stand to have a few luxuries for myself.

[Another pause.] Oh, and ammunition for my pistol.

Contact me here or privately and I'll tell you what I have to offer.
22 March 2013 @ 08:21 pm
[ click! video starts recording, and here's kasukabe carefully setting the camera down on a table, making sure it's angled up. once he sees it's recording properly, he waves a hand into the camera. ]


[ and then he reaches down, picks something up, and sets it down on the table so the camera can catch it:

yes, that is one of the rats from the gen lab jury-rigged to a huge, ghetto-ed together battery strapped to its back. despite its evident frankenstein-ification it doesn't seem uncomfortable; it snuffles quietly at the camera, wiggling its nose. the light embedded in its tail glows steadily. ]

This guy doesn't have a name yet. But if you see him around, don't be alarmed! He's very docile and I'm testing out how well he can act as a scout or retriever. He won't bite or attack people.

[ pause. ]

I guess he might be a little slow to react, so if you accidentally step on him or something, let me know. He should be able to take a little wear and tear, but just in case.

Oh, and if you have any name recommendations I'll gladly take them.
23 March 2013 @ 11:44 am
Ladies and gentlemen of the Tranquility, good evening.

[From the video, you can see Albert is seated somewhere in the oxygen gardens, on a wide-open patch of grass. He looks somewhat contemplative.]

I have a-- a somewhat personal question to ask of you all, so don't feel compelled to answer if you don't wish to. [He seems to hesitate, and then he plunges ahead quickly, as if he must ask it before he loses courage.]

How many of you here believed yourselves to have passed away before you woke up in this place?

And-- for those of you who don't want to talk about something quite so morbid, maybe you could tell me what year, or what country, or planet you come from. I'd... really like to hear about other people's homes. As for me-- I'm from Paris, France, the year 5053.

I've also got some tea and plenty of cups to go around here in the garden, if you'd prefer to speak in person. I'd welcome the company, and the chance to meet all of you.
[ for once, no one has to deal with faith and jaye's ridiculous mess of a room. instead the feed opens on faith's old room, which is dusty at worst. ]

Okay, so. Here's the thing-- no disrespect to fight club and all, I'm a fan. Sparring's cool for the little stuff, but it doesn't hit that real itch.

[ which would be killing, for all of you who don't speak crazy slayer. ]

So, here's what we got. Nerd wing overrun with those rat things, and looks like they're planning to just chill there for now. I'm thinking... fish with bitchin' teeth, barrel. Math's not all that hard.

Tyke already covered the general deal-- you wanna head out on your own good luck with that and mazel tov I guess, try not to bleed all over. Gets shit slippery, makes it a bitch for the rest of us. [ she shrugs one shoulder, rueful. it's true okay, geez. ] What I'm looking for is a hunting party. Fast and lean-- I got enough gear for me and maybe like three other people. Anybody who can bring their own shit to the table's welcome, but I get final call.

You wanna showboat and play hero, I got no use for you. And if you feel like you gotta prove your dick's the biggest skip the fight and just go ahead and whip it out right now, see what happens. Lonely in space, might get a couple takers for that. [ she grins, all teeth. ] All right, what else. You can't keep up, I don't need you. You can't take orders, I don't need you. You can't work nice with the other kids, I really don't need you. And no offense to the 101 crowd, but I'm not looking to babysit. You can't take care of yourself, don't need you either. Nothing personal.

I don't give a shit about attitude as long as you listen the fuck up, you stay low, and you don't get dead because that'd suck pretty hard for you. Plus then we gotta bring you back and if I bring back bodybags, boss lady's gonna get pissed and cut off my access to the party room and then I'm gonna get pissed. So no stupid moves, no dying, everybody's happy.

And if you wanna know why I'm in charge, other than 'cos I said so? [ she pans the camera over to the entirety of her weapons collection, a few clearly less high quality and more homemade blades joining the throng. ] Because they're my toys, and if you wanna play with them you have to ask nice.

[ she's such a delicate flower. ]

If you're down, we'll talk experience.

( ooc | depending on ic interest in actually going out, we can talk logs and/or handwaving etc. )
15 March 2013 @ 08:18 pm
[ For the entirety of the invasion of Iraq, Brad has been wishing for just one mission, one legit recon mission that makes use of his skills and talents. He didn't get one then — but the days since his arrival, he's run through the entire range of his skills. He's done basic reconnaissance, he's stayed out of everyone's way and watched, he's appropriated food, weapons and ammunitions beyond what he'd found in the locker.

Person would have a fucking field day with this, but Brad's conclusions are still tentative. Time to reach out to the local populace:

Brad Colbert, Sgt. of the US Marine Corps. My social security number is none of your fucking business, I don't care what the Geneva Conventions say. Any devil dogs aboard?

[ And after a moment's consideration, he adds: ] So. Space?
10 March 2013 @ 11:07 pm
[ The video feed starts, and a young red-haired woman appears. She's outwardly calm and collected, but to some who might know her personally—or are just a little more observant—there is an edge of worry etched in her green eyes. ]

...So, from what I've gathered, this is obviously a spaceship, and we're all passengers on it. My name is Jesse Reeves, but I don't suppose that actually means anything to any of you listening.

But what I want to know is, why me? Why was I chosen for this? I'm... [ she laughs a bit, self-effacingly ] ...the farthest thing there is from a space traveler or astronaut. I'm really more of an indoor girl, you know, cooping myself up in a library and reading everything I can get my hands on, voraciously. I'm not a pioneer, I'm not a mechanic, I'm not even really very much of a survivalist, and I don't think I can really benefit from this kind of...extra-terrestrial experience.

So, if I could, I'd like to go home now. [ a soft clearing of her throat. ] Please.
11 March 2013 @ 12:56 am
[ There’s a near on six foot, completely albino man in heavy medieval armor, two massive swords strapped to his back, with a nasty scar down the left side of his face that bisects an eye that looks more like a demon possesed cat’s eye than a human’s. And he is... tilling a small garden. In some corner of the oxygen garden.

The comm device is set up against a nearby plant, more just tossed there than arranged, and gives a kind of skewed view, but he’s sort of more interested in multitasking while giving a monotone announcement. ]

If there’s someone this land belongs to, let me know. Otherwise, try to avoid stepping here. [ He’ll put up some kind of marker later, whatever. ] Once it grows, if you take anything, you owe me money.

[ That bit of totally manly gardening done, he’s pulling out some twine and sticking down twigs to make a perimeter around the area. See, marked off. All nice and neat. So don’t step on his shit, please. And onto something of more importance, he glances up to the screen - mild and unperturbed in demeanor. ] My name is Geralt of Rivia, and I’m looking for Witcher’s work. If that doesn’t mean anything to you - I hunt and kill monsters. If you need something done, contact me.

[ There’s a sound of a plant shifting off to the side, and he seems to remember something, tacking it on matter-of-factly. ]

Word to the wise. There’s a one-eyed elf hiding over- [ Glancing up. Squinting. Pointing. ] -there. If you look human, he’ll probably shoot you. Those less durable may want to avoid the area for a while. [ Ahem, carrying on. ]

A last thing - does anyone know where I can find a very strong alcohol? I need it for an alchemical base. [ Pause. ] And to get shitfaced.

05 March 2013 @ 07:19 pm
[Edgeworth sounds characteristically brisk and serious.]

I would like to ask everyone to take a moment to speak here - or to leave a text message - about what it is that they most wish to get home to, or what it is they most appreciate here.

There's a jump approaching, and not too long from now. As we all know, jumps rarely bring good things - they herald lost friends, new disasters. This is a difficult life we have here aboard this ship - one fraught with pain, with misery, with fear. It's far too easy to become lost in the morass of despair. It's too easy, with each jump, to think: what if I don't? What if I do not go to the jump bay? What if I simply sit back and let it all end?

I ask that you, in this post, remind everyone why it's worth it to keep on. Why it's worth it to suffer through these jumps, month after month, and why it's worth it to keep cautious and not just go seeking our death in those hallways, and why it's worth it to keep trying to make life better here. As we approach this new jump, as we prepare ourselves to welcome and console these new arrivals, let us remember why we should continue to fight.

Thank you all for your attention and cooperation.
[ the feed opens on two pairs of feet; one large, one smaller. then jenna's voice comes through. ]

Tell you what. I'm going to leave you here, with this broadcasting-- [ the shot jerks a little, exposing an empty and spotless kitchen. ] and that way you can have something to talk to while I try and figure out where we are right now. I'll be back in a flash, you've seen how fast I can move now, and you know I'll hear you. Okay?

[ not waiting for an answer, jenna presses her comm into desmond’s hand and brings it up a little, so his chest is in frame, squeezing his shoulder with her other hand. ] I'll be right back, I promise.

Right. [Desmond sounds... Well shellshocked and crazy pretty much covers it. You can hear him swallow in that sort of pained, half-panting way, like he's out of breath and can't quite manage to calm himself down.] Assuming anyone's still out there, yeah? [He might be talking to Jenna, but she’s already gone. The comm shifts violently, flashing to Desmond’s face for only a half second (long enough to see he has both eyes and doesn't seem to be missing anything vital) and then to the ceiling and then back to the floor.] I don't understand what more it wants from me. Three bloody years of my life, pushing a damned button wasn't enough. I've been to the heart. I saw the light again. It was supposed to put me back. It was supposed to- [The camera swings by so fast you can easily tell that Desmond was gearing up to smash it against the nearest wall before-]

--whoa whoa, hey. Hey, it's okay. It's okay, I'm right here. Des? Desmond? [ she crouches down, taking the comm back into her own hands and setting it on the counter, where it films the tops of their heads for the moment. ] We're fine, look. We're even back in the main part of the ship, so that trek back is cancelled. I'm--

[ she pauses, hand reaching up into the picture again as she reaches for the comm, setting in on her upraised knees so it's more or less centered on the two of them, looking a whole lot worse for the wear. ]

If someone could prove big brother is always watching and figure out what floor we're on for me, that would be great. Who needs civil liberties, anyway? --don't get any extra ideas, Nathan. [ there's a tinge of forced, unnatural cheer to her tone, and her gaze darts over to desmond every few moments as if she needs to make sure he's there and fine. ] And maybe whoever pulls rescue duty, bring him something with a lot of sugar in it? That would be great.

[Desmond rubs his face, weary.] Someone tell Tyke I found what I was lookin' for, yeah? It's all true.

[ she inhales, about to add something else; then she shakes her head, lips pressed together in a tired line and jabs the off button. ]

( ooc | they're on floor thirty eight, where they were dumped after being rescued by ward from some Seriously Bad Metaplot Shit. colors for ease: jenna and desmond. )
16 February 2013 @ 04:36 pm
[Jack tries not to poke his head in where it doesn't belong, and he tries to let his friends be their own people. But he hasn't seen Tosh since the jump, and since it's been a week now, he's assuming the worst. People have gone off wandering into the depths of the ship though, maybe she's headed that way? Point is, they haven't seen or heard from her in over a week and that's unnerving for him.]

Has anyone out there seen Tosh lately? Toshiko Sato? Gorgeous Asian girl, works in communications?

[He smiles to hide the fact that he's worried, though if you know him, you can definitely tell. Hell, even if you don't know him, you can probably tell as well.]
11 February 2013 @ 12:02 pm
[The feed flickers on and there is a rather nasty sound from the other end, as the cell phone is dropped. Mordred picks it up, turns it about and examines it closely, uncertain of the way it looks and the strange things it does.]

I’ve been told I may use this as a form of communication, but I fear I may have been tricked. I just talk into it?

[It wouldn’t be anything new after all, Mordred was teased by the Knights back in Camelot frequently! Unfortunately, he doesn’t pick up this technology like he should, and instead continues to look at it strangely, even as he speaks into the little object. He looks around, letting out a sigh as he stops moving.]

I'm told we're rather stuck in this place, I've accepted that, but I keep finding myself unable to get back to where I started. I turn one corner and it leads somewhere I've never been before. How does one manage a place like this?

[ This means that Mordred is lost. He doesn't like to admit it, but he's been wandering for a while now and all of it starts to look the same to someone used to Camelot. ]

I suppose I must be missing something. Perhaps someone else has insights?
10 February 2013 @ 09:15 pm
[It's not very often that Asato makes a post to the network, preferring to read and hear what others have to say, offering bits of awkwardly-worded input when he thinks it could be useful. He's not one to draw attention to himself, and though it might seem difficult for a relatively big guy with cat ears and a tail, he tends to manage it too.

He's just a quiet guy minding his own cat business, part of which he's spent in the gardens, carefully tending to something each and every day. The result of nearly a year of watering, trimming, checking and double-checking, is what he moves the video feed to quickly after he sees the feed is on, offering only a quick glimpse of his face.]

I have--these.

["These" being a little pile of some kind of fruit. They're somewhere between a peach, an apple, and a currant, the size of a baseball at their largest, ranging from magenta to purple in color. He can't show it through the feed (much as he wishes he could!), but the scent that's coming from them is a strong mix of sweet, sour, and spicy.]

Kuims. Is what they're called. I planted them. I can't eat all of them, but I don't want them to go bad. [Which is why he's happy to offer some to whoever wants to stop by in the gardens and try them out.]

They're really good. In my world, lots of people like these the best. [A great advertiser he is not, but he's trying, and his enthusiasm is genuine.]

Please come have some. I don't need anything in return for them. Um... They're good in cakes, too. [That...should wrap things up, he figures, so the feed gives a shake, comes back to his face one more time, and clicks off.]
06 February 2013 @ 11:21 pm
Back home, I told someone that we're all going to Hell and that we might as well enjoy the ride. It made me think about a few things.

[There's the sound of a drink being poured. God only knew how many she had already but her words are a little slurred.]

Anyone who thinks that being here will end up with anything good in the end is deluded. People have died, others gone missing in the depths of this hellhole and came out a few pennies short of a pound afterwards.

[A pause follows while she sips from her glass.]

You'll either die on board or go crazy. There's nothing in-between.

Make the most of the time you have here. Get pissed, have sex, get high if you're into that sort of thing. Gorge yourself stupid. Whatever gets your rocks off.

More importantly? Enjoy it.

[The feed ends there.]