ARRIVAL LOG 005

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: Night of August 23 (through to August 30th)
WHAT: The fifth arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy. Further notes at end of log.

> ARRIVAL LOG #005

Awareness comes to you in blurred snatches, cloudy fragments of sound and light, color, sensation. Hazy and difficult to grasp on to, but slowly aligning into focus. A series of regular, rhythmic beeps. A medicinal, astringent smell. The sensation of movement, a low hum and accompanying vibration under you. Your eyes are heavy, hard to keep open, but in the glimpses between slow, dark blinks you see four people in black body armor seated opposite you, as well as a man in dark gray scrubs. You realize there are others next to you. All of you in white scrubs, hair recently cut but at various stages of growth, restrained by straps across your chests, arms, feet, holding you to the bench under you. To your left, an armored interior door, two more people visible, the movement of dark streets and neon windows passing through a windshield. You try to open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your tongue is coated in tar, and you manage nothing more than an empty parting of lips. The vehicle stops. The guard opposite you stands and comes to unbuckle you from the bench, helping you to your feet. Your limbs feel wooden and heavy, slow to move. One guard opens the back of the vehicle: beyond it, a chamber only dimly lit by strips of light along the floor. The nurse moves to stand at the back of the vehicle, checking each passenger over one by one just before they're helped out of the vehicle, quick and methodical. She doesn't climb out after you, moving to sit as the last passenger is unloaded. The guards keep their heads down. Their actions are quick, firm, but not entirely unkind. Under your feet, you can feel the thrum of heavy bass vibrating through the floor. You see nearby that there is another bus, another load of passengers being helped out, lined up much like you are. Once you're all in place, the guards move down the line, pulling dark hoods over each passenger's head. Your arm is lifted, placed on the shoulder of the passenger in front of you in line. "Hold on," says one of the guards. "Stay quiet. Keep moving until I say stop." There is no will in you to fight the orders. How far you walk is hard to determine. Counting steps is difficult, and any concept of time passing stretches between the sound of footfalls and breathing - soon overshadowed by the music. Growing louder, closer, the heavy bassline begins to reverberate through the air around you, amplified by the acoustics of the place. Melody and vocals become audible, the chatter of a crowd. Finally, you stop, and the hoods are pulled off, following down the line as the guards walk back. You turn to look after them, but they quickly disappear into the darkness of the tunnel behind you. The door in front of you swings open, the full weight of the music washing out. A tall woman with sharp, geometric patterns of ink tattooed across her skin smiles at you with sharp teeth, glowing luminescent in the UV lighting above her. "First timers?" she asks, but doesn't wait for an answer. "Don't worry, those costumes are great. Come on, come in." As you move to comply, she takes each of your hands, stamping a twisting design on the back, shining bright in the UV light. "Welcome," she says, as she ushers you out of the lobby and into the noise and crowd beyond. "To the Insomniacs' Ball." ◉ Though entirely capable of independent action and thought, new characters will find themselves completely, unquestioningly compliant to any verbal statement which could be taken as a command or request.

> THE INSOMNIACS' BALL

The message from El comes the same as previous: insistent, not waiting for any active attempt to open it. Scrolling within your vision as if being written while you're reading it. I'm not saying bus #5 got past me, but our favorite mysterious human traffickers have gone seriously sneaky this time around. And I'm not saying I can't help you get to where you need to be, but I can't. This one needs legwork, because you're going to have to land invites to the Insomniacs' Ball. The Insomniacs' Ball is an open secret. A New Amsterdam urban myth, disbelieved by many and desired for by even more. A week long party held every year as the working schedule changes, as the city struggles between the oppressive heat and the shifting of sleep cycles. Whether you'd prefer to be asleep at night or day, the ball doesn't care - a rolling, 24/7 event that continues until it disappears, as quickly as it arrived. Its location is a secret. Existence frowned upon, possibly even shut down by the authorities - dancing until you fall down is hardly advisable while water rationing is in place. Yet every year the rumors spin again, the whispers, clues and tastes and photos shared on social media which vanish before anyone can really be sure what they saw. Whoever puts the ball together is as good at keeping their head down as Morningstar - and most likely greases more wheels, rather than trying to be a wrench in the machine. Either way, all El can do is point you to the same paths anyone else hungry for an invite is taking. THE PUZZLE Emerging on social media like proverbial white rabbits, clues in the form of bizarre symbols, phrases or riddles have appeared, hidden in images or tucked in VR simulations. Solving them isn't for the impatient. Some take more work than others, a knowledge of numbers or pattern recognition, or ancient cultural references. The answers come as new clues, pointing to locations in the city, to other VR simulations, to figures waiting in cafes or particular enemies in your favorite VR video game. A treasure hunt for the modern age, as each step is completed the participants are whittled down, but for anyone who reaches the end, the prize of an invite to one of the most mysterious pieces of New Amsterdam life is worth all of the work to get there. THE DARE The challenges start small. Stand up and sing in a crowded restaurant. Take a selfie at the UNA's front door. Eat a live scorpion. Soon it escalates, taking even the most jaded of adrenaline junkies on a rollercoaster of illegal and death-defying stunts. Joyriding a notorious gangster's hoverbike. Climbing a construction beam between two of the tallest buildings in the city. Standing in central square and declaring yourself to be a Morningstar operative. The risks climb higher and higher, and for some the stakes are too much. Others hold their nerve, eyes set firmly on the goal, the victory of holding an invite in their hands. THE BOON And then there are those who make no effort at all. Passed to them by the hands of lady luck, their invites arrive in their pockets, slid under their doorframes or hidden under a glass at work. Bartenders open up crates of stock and find a wedge of them tucked in amongst the packaging; bike couriers arrive at delivery destinations only to find a parcel waiting there for them. Whether targeted or purely a matter of chance, many attendants at the Insomniacs' Ball will have had the opportunity simply fall in their lap - and some may not recognize what they've received at all. However you've managed to get your hands on an invite, the directions on the back are the same - leading you deep down into the city's underground, past some of the darker corners and into some even darker ones. A rusted, disused door to an abandoned maintenance area wouldn't look like the place, but the intricate geometric design painted silvery and barely visible across the surface matches the invite you hold, and you know you've found the entrance to wonderland. Behind the door, lies a twisting network of tunnels and rooms built into natural caves, ultimately abandoned by the city when its insides proved too difficult to navigate. Now, for a short time, it's home to a carnival of revelry. Strobing neon lights illuminate snatches and glimpses of the crowd, glowing in pools of UV: a dense mass of people from all over the city, young and old, music and dancing flowing from chamber to chamber, clashing and mixing between. Extravagant, outrageous costumes mingle with simple streetwear, or with no-wear at all. People hand out masks, drinks, substances which it may not be advisable to consume. Sealed bottles of water seem to appear from nowhere, passed among the people, their source and seeming escape from the rationing in the city far above going unquestioned. Smaller chambers offer some respite for those who need to take a minute, catch their breath, or want a quiet corner to talk with a new friend. Other chambers contain more hedonistic displays, with most participants always willing to accept another into their number. No one seems to be in any rush - there's roughly a week to soak in all the delights, and you can even come and go as you please, the UV pattern now stamped on your hand allowing access back through the various doors, if you can find your way back to one. But you're here for a different purpose, and whether it took you hours or days to find your way here, you know that the party will end eventually - and anything more unusual which may be hiding inside will be revealed. ◉ The Insomniacs' Ball and the related methods of gaining an invite will last for one week, from August 23-30. New characters can be retrieved at any time during this, or can find their own way out and be discovered on the streets - just please be advised that they will not be able to survive in New Amsterdam without first spending time in the Morningstar safehouse and having their ID set up. ◉ We will not be dictating set pieces of the ARG puzzle or challenges - these are left to player discretion as to what your character would have realistically managed to solve or complete! ◉ The invite themselves are business card sized pieces of metal with an intricate geometric patterns etched on one side, and an address on the other. The address leads to a quick series of clues and locations which will take characters to the door as described. ◉ The same geometric design will be present throughout the ball, worn by some of the guests and doorpeople, and even carved into the walls of some of the caves. ◉ While in the ball, there will be rumors and whispers circulating about the owner of the ball being in attendance, and that particularly impressive guests may earn some special reward - or just guarantee an invite again next year.

> THE SAFEHOUSE

Access to the safehouse is a hatch hidden behind stacks of empty storage shelves in the back of an abandoned supermarket in an outer district of the city. The immediate area is similarly abandoned, empty stores, flanked by several blocks of dive bars and clubs which cater to more niche tastes. A place where people can come and go unseen, or, if seen, not spoken of. A dark haired woman called Gaby is ready to greet the new arrivals and get them settled in, brusque and no-nonsense – she'll be open for in depth questions later, but will advise everyone to ask the people who brought them in for the beginning bits of information. ◉ The safe house is a large open space, filled with rows of basic cots set up to sleep a large amount of people. Basic, but outfitted with everything necessary for daily life. A few doors lead to back rooms for storage, medical care and a large communal bathroom, and past the long rows of cots there is a communal kitchen, fully stocked, and an eating area. Privacy is at a minimum. ◉ New characters will be asked to pick their beds, and provided with a change of (second-hand, mismatched and somewhat threadbare) clothes and basic toiletries. ◉ While there were previously also NPC occupants of the safehouse, natives to New Amsterdam, these people have now been moved on to somewhere safer. A few of their belongings remain, discarded or accidentally abandoned. ◉ Gaby will make it clear to all new arrivals that if they have any requests or queries, they should contact her or El. ◉ The drugs making new characters compliant will remain in their systems for a few hours after their being dropped off by the guards before finally beginning to fade. They will be gone entirely after a night's rest. In the meantime, they may want to be careful of what others say to them. ◉ New characters will be given rudimentary access to the network on arrival in the safehouse, but will not have their ID set up yet. They will be able to make posts and replies, but their messages will be anonymous and they do not have inboxes yet. ◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until FOUR DAYS AFTER THEIR ARRIVAL AT THE SAFEHOUSE. These 4 days are for them to adjust, learn about the world they've arrived in from their fellows, and for El to speak with them and work on setting up their IDs.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to Meadowlark, newbies! You're now free to post to the network and logs comms. To reiterate, your characters will have no IDs or inboxes, nor be allowed out of the safehouse until they have been there for four days. At that point it's expected they'll have gotten a good idea of their new situation from their fellow characters, and will have discussed their background and job potentials with El in order for their false IDs to be set up. If you have any questions or ideas about how you'd like to get your character involved in the world, or if they'd like to join Morningstar, please head over to the plot engagement post and drop us a comment! For questions specific to this log, there is a thread below. Please check out our December calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month. As a reminder, AC this month will be a check-in only. AC will be posted on December 20 and close on December 27. If you do not reply to AC, you will be considered idled and dropped from the game. We will not post a warning list.

> NAVIGATION

Comments

ball, part i

[mercurio]

[it's miserable that the first person he saw in the white scrubs that signifies new arrivals was ardyn, that he's got a bruising on his face for his troubles, that he's got a message from noctis that someone they know is also here and not having a great time. all in all, the moment he got away from ardyn and left the man to his own devices, he has no other business in this ball but to make a hasty exit and head to the safehouse.]

[he's rubbing at his jaw and trying to bite the displaced feeling from a punch away when he spots another white scrub, pushed away into a corner.]

Shiiit...

[and prompto's not one to leave someone who needs help by themselves.]

[which is why he hurries towards dutch and tries for a friendly approach, keeping himself from touching her in fear of having physical contact and making things more fuckey for her.]

Hey! You just got here, right? Listen -- I know this sounds crazy, but I can help you out. Are you hurt?

[motivation]

[ listen —he probably means nothing by it, but she finds that she still has to obey. her eyes narrow because he seems to know way too much, because usually the people who know shit are in some way responsible.

at least the question isn't invasive. (yet?) ]

No.

[ a beat. he's got bruising on his face and dutch in her current state is not unlike a feral animal, backed in a corner. of course, the drugs in her system make her obey orders, but they don't make her any less angry. more so, in fact. ]

Help me how?

[mercurio]

[at least she's responsive, even though there's a clear 'fuck off' vibe about her that makes prompto for the most part hesitant. he doesn't know how the effects of the drug along with all these lights and loud music could make people feel.]

[taking a step back to allow her space, he keeps his hands raised at torso level, short movements as he speaks.]

I also arrived with white scrubs a couple of weeks ago. There's a -- place, a safehouse.

[thankfully, the music is loud enough to keep this conversation between them.]

It's not safe out here like this.

[motivation]

[ if only her 'fuck off' vibe was enough to keep everyone away until the drugs are entirely out of her system. she wishes it would. but it doesn't even keep prompto away, not really.

she'll be glad enough for that later. ]

Whose safehouse?

[mercurio]

A group that's taking care of those like us -- who have arrived in this world without warning.

[he offers as much, because he's been taught that letting anyone be aware that morningstar exists is a bad move. prompto's trying to keep his voice level for only dutch to hear.]

[remembering what it was like for him when he first arrived, he offers,] I know you have no reason to trust me, but I'm trying to help. Please.

[motivation]

In this world?

[ he means on this planet, right? that's got to be it. dutch might not remember any space travel, but with her mind as muddled as it is and space travel a frequent occurrence, it's the most likely explanation for that kind of phrasing. ]

And what world would this be?

[ trust him. no chance of that, but she relents just about enough that it's clear that if he were to take a step closer, she wouldn't actively try to hurt him.

probably. ]

[mercurio]

Earth.

[he says in the same breath as he notices her relenting in her defensive approach. thus, he moves closer, showing his hands at all times, careful to not be too much of an overwhelming force.]

It's-- a lot to explain. I was also in your shoes not too long ago. Dropped off, drugged and dazed.

[frowning a touch, he offers a hand, one that has a glove. he's learnt his lesson after weeks in this city.]

I can answer any questions you have. Or I'll try to, anyway.

[motivation]

[ he offers one gloved hand and dutch looks down at it —and decidedly does not take it. she'd taken someone's hand, once, and trusted him —but that had been a very different situation and besides, johnny's got to be around here somewhere, or working on finding her. ]

How about you start with who the hells you are.

[mercurio]

[he gets it. in her shoes, not too long ago, he too was suspicious of anyone willing to lend a helping hand. he had been frightened into accepting the help, ordered to move along to make the process more expedite. he doesn't want to inflict that on someone who is going through the same.]

[taking his hand back, he nods and just answers the question.] Dunno how that's really gonna -- help much, but. Prompto Argentum.

[pretty sure his name holds no significance or value to her, and will not push forward any helpful information about the place.]

If we get you to the bar at least you can have some water. Does that sound okay?

[motivation]

[ he'd have a hard time frightening her —though it would at least be something that makes more sense to her than this. there are precious few people she knows who will help someone just because, without expecting anything in return, and plenty people who would fuck someone in a vulnerable position over in a heartbeat.

him being genuinely helpful is a lot harder to trust than him threatening her would be. ]

Fine. [ she decides after a moment of mustering his face, his expression. her mind's still muddled, but she'd like to think she's a decent judge of character.

after a beat, she adds: ] I'm Dutch.

[mercurio]

[a smile spreads across his features when she acquiesces. the most he can expect from any given situation, really, is the reluctant but general acceptance of some help. he'd feel terrible if he just walked away knowing he could have done something.]

Nice to meet you, uh, even if it's under pretty shitty circumstances.

[scratching over his ear, he turns to his side and motions towards a corner of the room they're in.]

There's a counter over there. Are you gonna need help getting there, or I'll just lead the way...?

[motivation]

Just go. I'm fine. [ she's not fine, of course —but she's also not going to fall over or have her legs give up on her halfway there. her body's too well-trained for that, too used to being pushed beyond its limits. she's more than capable of making it.

his smile is nice. dutch doesn't return it. ]

[mercurio]

[these types of people, it's best to let them do their own thing even if they aren't 100% on the capable scale. so prompto will give dutch the benefit of the doubt and start making his way through the crowd, nodding before heading forward. at least, towards the counter, there aren't that many people shuffling about.]

[he squeezes through and makes some space so that dutch can lean on the counter, too, as he asks for one water, the sealed bottle placed in front of him after the transaction goes through.]

Here. [he motions towards dutch, turning to break the seal on the cap.] Can't guarantee it'll fix everything, but it might make you feel better.

[motivation]

[ he's not wrong in his assessment of her —any assistance beyond what he's already offering, any physical assistance would not be gracefully accepted. weakness, understandable or not, is not something to draw attention to. bad enough that she feels out of sorts, it would worse still to have to acknowledge it. ]

Whatever. [ but she fits herself into the space he's made for her and takes the bottle from him, downing about half of it in long swallows. ]