[Jim might be talking a little too loudly on this broadcast, but he doesn't- well actually notice. he's not using video because he's still in medical because some people haven't let him leave yet.

probably because he only just woke up about an hour or two ago. maybe if he hadn't been quite so reckless he wouldn't be in this situation. it's honestly thanks to a quick response and the advanced medical facilities that he didn't go completely deaf.

still, there's something oddly... cocky about the way he speaks. a little more brash than he normally is.]

Jim Kirk here.

Anyone new to the ship, welcome aboard, though I wish we could've met under better circumstances. The earlier broadcast you all might have noticed was from our anonymous friend known as Smiley. Needless to say, it isn't the most helpful entity on board. [which is probably the most aggressive thing he's ever said on the network about the thing. gee, Kirk, you sure are acting a little off.]

If you haven't done it already, I suggest going over the compiled FAQ. Your comms device has a text to voice option if you're unable to read it. I'm willing to answer questions if you have them.

[then there's a shift in his tone, a weight to his voice that sounds a little frustrated; another of his good staff gone.]

Also, John Watson of the first wave is no longer with us.

Kirk out.

Say 'hello', Lamby. [ Yes, this is a grown man in your video feed with a tiny flannel sheep. Dexter holds it up to the camera, looking at it wistfully as he does. He would. It'd his son's favourite. ] Baaa.

[ And that's quite enough of that. The man's eyes lift up, and then he retreats enough that Dexter is entirely visible on the sceen from the chest up, wearing a frankly garish printed shirt and a bright smile. The smile is fake. All of this is fake. A normal person responding to a normal situation, not Dexter with what Dexter knows about this place. Dexter who's stuck between wanting to go home to his son and... Other Things. Dexter Divided. ]

I mean I know this is Florida and anything can happen, but aren't space theme park rides a little passe? Don't get me wrong, I think Space Mountain is as cool as the next person, but that's a roller coaster. I've had to walk everywhere since I got here. Everything's broken, the food is lousy, sleeping arrangements are cramped - and I live in Miami; I know cramped!

[ And while we're on the topic of theme parks... ]

I urge you to reconsider opening this theme park, Mr. Hammond. It's just not safe. Wait-- [ He cocks his head to one side, as though listening. ] What's that sound? [ The table jumps, jumps, as though something heavy is making it rattle. Suddenly his own hand leaps out at him, a tiny, homicidal flannel sheep taking him by the throat and knocking him out of his chair as he gives a very fake yell. ] Argh!

[ Oh no, he's back. Too much time playing with small children, he can't help himself. ]

Just kidding. But seriously, I'd like to go home now, please. I know, I know, everyone must say that, right?

It seems we're all in the same predicament. I read the information provided, and thought it best if I introduce myself. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, I'm a Jedi Padawan. I'm seeking any who are familiar with my order.

There is another Jedi here, I can sense them - if you can hear me, my Master is Qui-Gon Jinn. I'm hoping you're familiar with him, at least.

[The camera clicks on to a low-lit room. It's difficult to see anything, but there's something moving in the darkness--

--a face. A wolf's face turned to the side, its jaws bloody and eye narrowed, teeth stretched into sharp, curved fangs. It stares at the camera for a few seconds, sizing it up, before turning. But the other half of the face isn't a wolf; rather, it's a mangled, gory mess. A young face appears on the screen, meshed horribly with the wolf on the other side-- and it's Remus' face, but one could only tell that if one knew him well, as his face is horribly torn up. Torn skin and exposed muscles make up the majority of his face, while blood pours from scratches on his forehead. His teeth are exposed through a hole in his cheek, but that's barely visible, as dripping yellow fat mixing with crimson blood are constantly slipping down his cheek. It's a horrible sight, made all the worse by Remus' sudden low laugh.

--because it's the mask, of course, and he proves that by removing it after a few seconds.]

Enjoy the show?

[There's a noticeable edge in his voice and smile, something colder and crueler than before.]

I think I quite like this new development. It's certainly far more interesting than simply another Jump, don't you agree? And far less deadly-- which reminds me, there's new people here, aren't there? I do hope that's not your first inkling that things on here aren't quite so lovely as they seem; that would be a rather poor welcome.

[He glances down, considering the mask for a few more seconds, before glancing at the camera again.]

You know, I'm always surprised at how kind everyone is here. Aren't you? How welcoming they are to the supernatural creatures. The vampires and the werewolves, the poor castaway souls that have found sanctuary here-- but you know, I don't know if that's so wise. It works out for me, of course, but don't you ever wonder what might happen if one of us snapped?

[He grins fiercely.]

Think about it. Once a month, all that separates me from a potential meal-- that is to say, you (and please don't say that you could defend yourself from me, because I can promise you, you couldn't, not from me when I'm on the hunt)-- is a simple door and a dog. Just a few inches of steel, and I'm sure soon enough the werewolf will figure out how to get out of that.

As for the vampires-- well. I don't think it would be very hard for a vampire to snap, would it? At least with me, you only have to worry once a month. A terrifying once a month, to be certain, and I could most definitely hurt you if I was so inclined now-- but in the end, I have control over myself twenty-eight days of the month. A vampire, now-- well. He could snap at any moment. His cravings are a constant hunger. Imagine, if you would, starving. Having hunger claw at your stomach, making you dizzy, making you delirious-- and then being presented a delicious meal and being told you weren't allowed to have any. Imagine having to deal with that at every hour, every minute, every second of every day--

Really, it's a wonder the poor things haven't snapped by now, isn't it?

[He slips his hand up, his finger playing carelessly at his dogtooth.]

Of course, being a creature of darkness also has its benefits. Strength, hearing, sight, smell-- they all get better. You become something better than a human, something bigger and cleverer and far more interesting. I have to say, I'm a bit surprised no one has asked for the bite yet.

But then perhaps you're all frightened.

[He shrugs and glances down at the mask again. After a moment he slips it back on and turns so the wolf side is facing the Network.]

I suppose you should be.

Got quick questions for you. Bite the barber and indulge me, dig?

[ Brendan's looking pretty uncomfortable. That's probably because he's not used to (nor does he like)video, but he figures if he's asking a public question he might as well... well. Be as public as possible. It's exactly why the film noir slang is a little more pronounced. ]

First, if the word "brick" catches, hit me on the square. That's the most important. Don't ring any bells, don't worry about it.

[ An odd shrug. He's crouched down just outside the med bay, hands hovering up to just over his chin, most of his eyes hidden behind his glasses and an unruly mop of brown hair. ]

And if anyone's got actual music--y'know, like on a casette--and want to cop it off, drop me a dime. Lookin' for Lord of the Flies, too. Paper, not hologram.

[15% encrypted away from OPR » 002 » 022 "Wichita" ]
...If a guy's dizzy with a dame and that doll's got in the dutch recently, what's there to get her? He's on the nut and thick as what all, but she's pretty gowed-up.

I wish to speak of magic.

[Loki lifts a hand and a ball of green light appears in his palm.]

Some consider it a science, others mere...trickery...

An illusion but naught else.

[He breathes on to the orb and it cracks; veins of light jagging across its surface, then a small dragon starts to emerge, as if hatching.]

It is hard to consider magic in a place such as this, that feels so sterile and dark. But, I think, there are many among us who come from places where the arcane is not so alien.

And we long for that...

For some mystical light, to illuminate the darkness.

[He lowers his hands and the little dragon hovers in place, flapping its glowing wings.]

To give us wonder, once more.

Who here knows about magic, and its practice? And to whom is it naught but a lie.

[He frowns and waves his fingers through the dragon, causing it to dissolve.]

Miles, I already know your answer, so you need not respond.

((ooc: People who admit to knowing/using magic will go on Loki's "stalker list", just in case that is something you'd like to avoid.))

[It's late at night when the transmission comes across and it's coming from one of the many kitchens where Angela's seated at a table, a small plastic tupperware container in front of her. The lid's been popped off and every so often, she reaches inside for one of the miniature Reese's peanut butter cups and unwraps it before popping it into her mouth. She's clearly been here for a while with the number of empty wrappers strewn around her, but she doesn't seem likely to go back to her room any time soon. At least not before she turns to the device and whispers into it.]

Most of you guys are probably sleeping or something. Who knows what time it is here, but I'm assuming you won't hear this until later. Either way, question mostly for the people who've been here for more than a couple jumps: do you get homesick? Or are you too busy dealing with the bullshit from the ship?

[Angela pauses to finish chewing the candy, following it up with another one that she swallows as she chooses her next words carefully.]

It's not like I've never been away from home. I've lived all over the world, some places only for a week or so, but at least I had a phone or the internet. Everybody I knew was never more than just a phone call away. I'm good for picking up and going because it's Tuesday, but I never stopped checking in.

[Another candy goes down before she lifts the wrapper in mock salute.]

Thanks for the candy, Isaac.

[He speaks with an English accent, corrupted by his native language and years of contact with all kinds of pronunciations from around the world - be it his or someone else's. Still, his fluency makes all those little alterations perfectly forgivable.]

I'll begin this message by letting you all know that waking up in these facilities made a week of decontamination feel like a well-deserved vacation. [For those unfamiliar with those procedures (the vast majority, he assumes):] They aren't. They're quite unpleasant, in fact. But also necessary.

Which begs the question: is all of this necessary as well? And I don't mean the healthy dose of tube - whatever that was, exactly - just the fact that we're somehow here. [Hm.] Highly doubt it. I'd at least have some memory of asking to be whisked away to a haunted space cruise.

[Pause. He doesn't sound like he's being serious, but that's up to you to decide. And he really enjoys the sound of his own voice, so whether this Space Ship Party MC's around to see it is actually rather irrelevant.]

Honestly, I'm just wondering when someone's going to show up and tell me this was an extraordinarily detailed prank. [... Well.] Hoping would be the right word, actually.

[And there you have it. But wait!]

So - who wants to tell me what we're going to do about that dragon?

[ Alright. He can totally do this without screwing it up.

Yeah.

Totally.

He fumbles around with it for a minute, hits a few buttons, and just sort of stares at the screen. It's dead silent on the video feed while he just sort of tilts his head to the side, eyes narrowing in confusion. ]

Crap. It's on, isn't it?

[ Ah, shit.

He straightens the communicator out with one hand, uses the other to drag a hand down his face. Dean looks more exhausted than he has any right to, but he's been awake reading through his dad's journal and trying to get his hands on anything that could give him an inclination on how to get home or how he even got here. Unsuccessful, thus far.

Which brings him to this: stopping the whole anti-social thing. ]

So I guess some of you knew me when I was here before. But, uh, I don't exactly remember that. As a warning. So I guess reintroduce yourself, if you want.

[ A pause, because he forgot how bad he is at this crap. Dean's good for one-on-one, for hanging out and drinking a beer or two, not- Wait. ]

And before I make this any more stupidly awkward like a nerd at prom -- anyone up for a drink? Be a lot better at this after a couple.

[ there's a funny thing about every psa ric has seen over his device is that there's a distinct lack of explaining things like certain creatures that are on the ship with them. jenna had avoided mentioning anything about the supernatural when talking about the ship at large and her plans, kirk had mentioned people having different feeding needs (he knows jenna is one of them, and damon and— the others) and nathan had mentioned people not having voices. there's a part of him that needs to do something to get his mind off the fact that jenna said she handled klaus. it takes him a while to actually figure out what he wants to say (and if anyone cares to look they'll see notebooks around him testifying to just how much he's poured over them before he even turned on his device). when he finally does say anything it's clear he means business, but at the same time, there's a smile on his face like there's nothing to be alarmed about here. ]

There's a funny thing about stories you get to here at home sometimes. Legends, actually, but you can live your whole life without actually finding out that those legends you've heard are real. I get that a lot of you have never heard of things like vampires or werewolves or witches before, but if there's one thing my life and, I'll be honest, my time on this ship has taught me, is that while they may just be fantasy in your world, they're real in others. And, coincidentally, we have some of each on this ship.

You're scared or angry and you think it's a good idea to toss them off the ship because what if they hurt one of us. I'm going to let you in on a little secret, those vampires I mentioned? All of them are living off of synthetic blood from medical. Even the one that can't is asking for volunteers. None of them are feeding off the general populace. The werewolves? They're contained when they shift and if they weren't, all of us would know and the ones of us who can handle corralling them would. Typically witches don't actively go around killing people nor do they like being particularly evil depending on the type.

I can see why some of you might be scared, and admittedly, first time I met a vampire, it wasn't pleasant at all, but once you get to know some of them, it's not that bad. Supernatural creatures, in general, are only as evil as they want to be. True, some can be evil— [ like klaus ] but the same can be said with any one, honestly. Most can exist with humans, aliens, and anything else on this ship without causing mass panic. Honestly, any of them hiding are only hiding because they know how people can get. I'm not saying you have to be buddy with your resident supernatural creature, but unless they're going around harming the rest of us, there's nothing wrong with treating them like they're shockingly normal.

In the long run, as much as it hurts to imply that we'll be here for even longer, it's better that we don't end up starting fights with each other because someone had the unfortunate luck to be a vampire or a werewolf or a witch on a ship full of people who have been raised to know that they're creatures of the night that they need to run from. And if there is any fights started, there is security here and even though I'm just in gunnery, I would not actually hesitate to play for both of those teams and break up whatever fight happens because we couldn't act like rational adults.

[ everything in neal's life right now depends on coming off as better-- healing, masking pain maybe, but better. as such: time to get back on the network socialization horse.

he's in his devore, this time, and a fedora to boot; armor, but whatever. hot armor. ]

You know what I've noticed? Space is actually pretty boring in between it trying to kill us all.

In that vein, here's something I haven't done in a while. Pick a or b and try your best.

( ic attachment )

That's a, here's b.

You're on a road-- let's say to the nearest drycleaners. If you don't understand why we need one of those, you're going somewhere else that's very important and exciting, all right? You come to a point in the road where the path is blocked by three guardians; their names are Knight, Knave and Chaos. Knight always tells the truth, and Knave can always be trusted to lie. Chaos just blows whichever way the wind is strongest, that day.

To get past them, you only have to do one thing: by asking three yes or no questions (one to each guardian, double dipping not allowed) figure out which one is Knight, which one is Knave, and which one is Chaos.

There is, as always, one catch: the guardians understand English but will answer you back in their local language, so 'da' means yes and 'ja' means no. Or maybe it's the other way around-- probably should have read the guidebook closer.

So. How do you do it?

And hey, why not one more for the math geeks living among us. Finish the sequence:

4, 6, 12, 18, 30, 42, 60, 72, 102, 108, ?, ?, ?.

( locked to matthew keller )

[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.

[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]

[ The feed turns on. He sees people on the other side, and he's pretty sure other people could see him, like a small, two-way mirror! That’s certainly progress. (He doesn't trust the device but it's progress.) There's a bit of an emphasis on the "small" part, though, so he puts the mirror closer to his eyes, just short of pressing it against his face. He needs to talk to somebody and get to the bottom of this. ]

Hello there! Can you hear me?

[ The other people in the feed seem to be listening. He takes that as a good sign and continues talking. ]

I’m Alistair, the… uh, King of Ferelden. I would like to inquire about this place, if that's all right. Mainly, where am I? What am I doing here? I’m not… in grave danger, am I? Because I really ought to be getting back to Denerim, I sort of have a country to run, thanks.

Oh, but if none of you could answer that, then can I at least ask for an audience with your… king? Viscount? Leader? Whatever you call them? I’m sure we can work something out. Resolve it diplomatically. I walk away, they get something, good feelings and negotiations all around.

[ There are a great deal of fumbling noises coming from this broadcast, followed by a low mutter of "Pigeon crap!" This continues for about a minute before Shale realizes the device is on, and then there's silence until she flips it toward her.

Hi, Tranquility. ]

I'm to use this to communicate, am I? They ought to have made its buttons larger, but I suppose it will do, strange as it is. Some sort of magic, perhaps? But so fragile. Likely the work of humans; they're rather fragile themselves.

[ There's a pause here for a quick laugh before the golem behind the camera continues. ]

This is not Ferelden, that much is certain. It is not the Deep Roads either. In fact, I have been told we are on a ship in the Void. Bah! No darkspawn to crush, and yet there are still birds. They will keep their feathered fiends away from me, if they want them to live.

If the Warden or its companions are here, they should speak. I have already spoken to the Warden they call Bethany, but I mean the Warden. And if none are here, I would like to know where I might be able to squash some things.

[Tony's dressed only in a garishly coloured purple robe and his underwear and he appears to be working on something just off the screen. He's so far refusing to wear the uniform provided, sticking with what came with him in his locker. He doesn't look like the first Tony Stark on the ship, but he certainly shares the same facial hair as him. There's also no arc reactor sitting in his chest.]

There's a reason why I donated my services to a government-sponsored metahuman strike force while maintaining my position as CEO of a multinational company. I don't do idle very well.

[His hands still and then he reaches out to take a drink of the space-booze he's been building a stockpile of for himself in his room. Alcoholics have to drink.]

That said, the last time I visited another dimension they'd never heard of me and the last time I met a parallel universe version of myself before this ship his head dropped through the multiversal gate and onto my lap.

So question, who here has heard of the Ultimates, Fantastic Four, mutants, Spider-Man or even recognise me? [That seems to be the major factions that were known in recent years for him.

Then there's a chirp and a small robotic bird flies up to hover in front of Tony, evidently what he was working on before.]

...And does anyone want this?

[ river is sitting on the floor of her room, staring at the screen, and frankly it's easy to tell that there's something not quite right about her. she looks unfocused, and there's something haunted about her. unhealthy and not all that sane.

more notably, though, if you're not inspecting her face while she sits there silent, you might notice that she must have gotten her hands on a knife at some point, because half of her jumpsuit is missing. she has mangled the tranquility crew uniform - the legs of the suit are cut off at the knee, and the sleeves are gone entirely. she's decided to forgo shoes, too. it seems like she's trying to say something, but can't quite manage. her eyes drop to the floor. ]

You're living on a graveyard. [ she's not quiet, but she sounds distracted. ] Gathering wool. Everyone's a cotton farmer. They thought we wouldn't notice if they took our eyes, but the ears are a requirement for watching. Seeking. She can't hide, everything's exposed, tore you open to see how it ticks and they didn't sew it back up, your stomach acids will leak on the floor and give you away. They will. They'll come for you in the dark, it's why they put out the stars. It's all going to - to fall. Tiān fān dì fù.

[ she frowns, twitches very suddenly, like she's snapping out of a trance. she looks up at the screen. ]

... This isn't my space. [ and like a frightened child: ] S-Simon?