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

[secondnature]

Unless they brought a change of clothes. [That's always possible. Keith realizes now that this would just lead them on a chase for something they couldn't begin to fathom or understand. A chase that would turn out to be an utter waste of time.

He makes a disgruntled sound, low in his throat.]

Apparently you can meet whoever put this on. I'm not about to show off to anyone.

[fessus]

Well yeah, me neither.

[ Which is a little laughable considering his appearance right now, flecked with paint that's only dragged inadvertently into his hair as well when he runs fingers through it in a thoughtless, habitual gesture. Ah, damn it... That was the blue neon paint, too. The red and green streaks on his black shirt were enough to begin with, to say nothing of his back. ]

Look, I can keep an eye out with you; you should know I'd help you out by now. But this? I dunno if it's gonna' pan out if we're just scouting on foot and hoping we find something, that's all.

[secondnature]

[Noctis is right. Keith's eyes narrow as he focuses, drawing in what patience he can manage. He's upset about how he found Shiro, blinded by it, but not enough to keep him from doing what he needs to do. They probably just shouldn't be having this conversation here. They need somewhere quieter.]

Let's find one of the side caves where people aren't ... doing stuff. [They both know what kind of stuff, presumably.]

We can talk about things there.

[fessus]

[ The bass seems louder by the second, pulsing into a faster tempo as Keith speaks and he can't help but agree. This? Is ridiculous, and not conducive to anything. He nods to one of the room's exits, tensing a little at Keith's allusions to what might be happening in those other rooms. Right, he's seen... His sheltered, shy eyes have seen. ]

Sounds good, you wanna' lead the way?

[secondnature]

[They're both sheltered. That's part of the problem. Keith is here against his best judgment—not that Keith's impulsive judgment is always to be trusted, because sometimes it's just wrong and he wants to barrel everyone into a reckless situation because it seems like the right thing to do—but he's here. So. They can talk.

Away from the probable orgies.

Because that's what's there, right? That's what's hinted to be there?]

Message me if you lose track of me. [Though Keith doesn't think that's likely. He and Noctis are spry enough that they can get through.

So, he starts to move forward, pushing his way between some bodies without even making an effort to "dance" with the flow to help. No. He's just going. Deal with it! Or that's what his body language says.

Eventually, he does end up at the end of a long, long cavernous corridor, with a sign warning him that he's not legally allowed to go any further.

Well, this whole thing is illegal, but Keith assumes that just means "I'll fall off a cliff and die." And he's been there. He just doesn't have the armor now to ... not die.]

[fessus]

[ The crowd moves like one pulsing organism and Noctis feels chewed up and spat out by it as he starts attempting to actually move, meeting a considerable amount of resistance that continues to test his patience. It's the main reason he doesn't give Keith any attitude for assuming they might end up separated, that and the mood being a little too serious for that kind of jab.

It's an extra full ten seconds before he's escaping from the throng to join Keith near the sign, hair considerably more mussed and a drink in his hand. Clearly someone gave in and just accepted someone's generosity to get them to leave him alone. He looks especially harassed right now. ]

... ahh... do you want this? [ Offering... just in case... ]

I can go first if you're worried about breaking the law. [ worst king ever ]

[secondnature]

[Keith was all set to say that he's not interested when Noctis went on about breaking a law. First off, Keith's pretty sure half the people in here are taking in substances that involve breaking the law. Secondly, he doubts that "drinking age" is a considerable law by any extent of the imagination.

And third—

and most importantly

—he's twenty-one.

After having gone through this with Jason, he just scowls.]

How old do you think I am?

[fessus]

[ Give him a moment. ]

... hah? I guess... [ He even looks him over, slowly, eyes narrowed in full concentration in spite of himself. He may be feeling especially beleaguered right about now but clearly Keith's going through something too, so he can humor him by going along with this line of inquiry without protest. ]

... twenty?

[secondnature]

Close. [Close enough that he decides there's no point in giving an exact age. The reality is that Keith doesn't actually know his exact age. Time in the Quantum Abyss had really messed things up, and he's only pretty sure he aged two years rather than more than that.

Plus, space itself. And Altean calendars. And everything else.

So, it's more likely that he's older than twenty one anyway, but every time he gives an explanation, someone asks for something more definite and his head kind of hurts.

Which would just be worse here, where the music is really loud and he hates it, and like three different people have told him he's pretty and he should wear some eyeliner.]

I don't think people care how old we are. But I'm not some kid.

[It is not Noctis' fault that he has this issue.

Thanks, Matches.]

[fessus]

[ The answer puzzles him further, brow furrowing as Noctis tries unsuccessfully to deduce where this is coming from on two fronts.

First, he hasn't realized that Keith is reacting to the possible illegality of the drink and not the posted warning on the sign, which Noctis is referencing, and second? Well, "I'm not some kid" is a defensive statement that's rooted in more than just Noctis potentially guessing his age wrong. ]

Of course you aren't. [ The response comes easily, brows lifting. ] You're working hard like the rest of us, right? Not saying a kid couldn't, you're just obviously not one.

[secondnature]

Well. Good.

[The thing is, he still thinks this is about the drink. Keith is good about not seeing anything that's meant to be what the other person is talking about. Sometimes he just misses the mark, and he's missed it here.]

I don't really like drinking either way, but I don't want you to think I'm some child.

[No, it's not even an issue he had back home. Matches Matodd really gets under Keith's skin.]

[fessus]

... okay?

[ What-- wait, wait. ]

I'm not gonna' think you're a kid just because you say you don't want a drink, you know. [ No, never mind, he still hasn't gotten it. ] I just figured I'd offer or whatever, before I got rid of it. [ Which he chooses to do by literally setting it down next to the wall. On the floor. Perfect. ]

Now do you want me to go first or not?

[secondnature]

[This is the most pointless back and forth that's happened between Keith and Noctis, and they've had many a pointless back and forth. Keith doesn't even realize that they had a failure in communication.]

Fine. You can go first.

[fessus]

Great, glad that's settled...

Do I get to learn why you suddenly brought up age or what? [ Well, the sign is attached to a rope that he's lifting just enough to duck under it, indeed leading the way deeper into the winding caverns. Looks like there's a door off to the side just up ahead... ]

[secondnature]

You said you could drink the thing first if I was worried. Which I wasn't. [There's noted impatience in his tone. He follows after Noctis, easing under without a hint of hesitation. They were definitely talking around each other. Keith doesn't seem to care about breaking this particular law.

In fact, as far as he's concerned, it's a dumb law.]

[fessus]

...

I was talking about the sign, not the drink. I just offered you that because-- maa, this is stupid. I just thought I'd be nice if you wanted it before I chucked it. Whatever...

[ He slows when they near the door, attempting to look as inconspicuous as possible -- good luck -- when in reality they just look like a pair of lost party-goers. ]

After you, then.

[secondnature]

[However, one second later, Keith is also showing his signs of being a space ninja. Or extremely high like he needs to play James Bond. Anyone who can see the two of them definitely thinks they're playing out some action film.

Keith moves around the sign, back flat against the wall.

Sneaky sneaky.

(If only he was on drugs.)]

1/3

[fessus]

[ . . .

Okay, well now they don't look like lost party-goers. ]

2/3

[fessus]

[ Noctis... looks down at his clothes, splattered with glowing paint........ ]

3/3

[fessus]

Keith--

[ Practically a hissed whisper, gesturing more insistently at the door. ]