meadowlarklogs | ARRIVAL LOG 005

ARRIVAL LOG 005

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[the stranger speaks, and prompto just hops on to pick up the showerhead. he's wondering if he should report it as broken or just leave it and hope for the best...? when the other man starts to mention things -- or names, rather -- as if expecting prompto to recognize them.]

[alisaie? primals?]

Huh?

[he turns, holding the showerhead still and looking confused.]

Who? Sorry, I'm not familiar with who--uh, Ali...sa? Is?

[ It is a slow, terrible thing, the way the world goes out from beneath his feet, and that look of utter nonrecognition on Prompto’s face smothers the spark of hope and relief in record time. He has seen this before, many times. Acquaintances and friends suddenly vanishing only to return with no memories at all of their previous experiences. Nothing for it but to build from the ground up, right?

This, however? The crumbling of this foundation hurts the most. They may not have been related by blood, but for a time, they were family.

His ears betray him first, folding flat against his skull in something like defeat. He doesn’t know if the young man before him was ever the Prompto he knew, or not, but one thing is very certain. ]

You’ve no idea who I am, do you?

[prompto's eyebrows rise as he finally notices the cat-like ears atop the other man's head. how did he -- miss that entirely--? but it seems out of place to ask about it, considering the look on the other's face.]

[of disappointment, maybe downright upset?]

[he cannot imagine why though.]

Should... I know who you are? [the sounds terrible, even to his own ears, and so he winces and adds, apologetically:] Sorry?

[ To be fair, Prompto was sort of busy drowning. That probably makes noticing things like cat years difficult.

To his credit, X’rhun is very used to pressing onwards in the face of disappointment. He schools his expression into something far more neutral, ears straightening and swiveling in Prompto’s direction. ]

This may sound farfetched, but by my recollection, yes. I apologize for jumping to conclusions.

Maybe you're mistaking me for someone else...?

[there's a thud of dread, suddenly, at a crazy idea. if it's all different timelines and worlds, who is to say that the person this man recognized is not himself, but someone who looks like him? someone like -- certain nif researcher.]

[he swallows thickly and looks to the side, wondering what would be appropriate to do next...]

Uh. Lemme change into clothes and we can talk in a bit?

[ Ah, yes, this is probably not a conversation that needs to happen with Prompto in naught but a towel. X’rhun is aware enough to know it would be unwise to reveal his full scope of knowledge all at once, but even just the basics are sure to be uncomfortable. Let's not compound the issue, yes? ]

Certainly, take your time. I’ll be outside.

[ He’ll step out to give Prompto his privacy… and to wring the water from his mismatched socks. ]

[it takes prompto very little time to find another towel, forget about the broken showerhead, and change into dry clothes. he walks out of the communal showers feeling sorry for the wet mess on the floor, but it doesn't take him long to find the stranger that approached him, either.]

[in fact, prompto's immediately amazed by the tail swishing behind him.]

Okay, whaaaaaat! What's with those ears and your tail! They're so -- cool!

[furry alert]

[ At least while he's in this place, X'rhun has stopped trying to hide his feline features, enjoying the freedom while he can. He is already aware of how such things will be looked at in the outside world. ]

Of course they're cool. They are attached to me, after all.

Are you an evolved cat?!

[he's missing the point of everything, but he's just so excited at this prospect in the face of ... very little animals. it's upsetting if he thinks about it for too long.]

Wait, is that rude of me to say that?

[ Thank the gods that Prompto found the most agreeable Miqo'te to possibly be offensive at. ]

Mayhap.

[ A grin. ]

I don't mind it. I am the only one of my kind I've seen here, after all, and there are bound to be questions. I am a Miqo'te, and I suppose I am no more an evolved cat than you are an evolved monkey.

Miqo'te...

[that's pretty neat--although prompto ends up snickering at how the stranger retaliates.]

Guess you got me there, buddy.

[speaking of buddy...] Y'said you know me, though? How's that?

Ah, now that is a long story.

[ He heaves a sigh, the twitching of his tail the only thing to betray his nerves. He should tread carefully, here, he knows this. Whether this is the same Prompto or not, he still has a fondness for the boy, and wouldn't see him running off because of X'rhun's misstep. ]

I arrived here not from mine own star, but from another world where others from many different worlds were also gathered. There were some from my star, Hydaelyn, some from as many different iterations of Earth as there are grains of sand on the beach, and some... from your Eos.

Mayhap it has yet to happen to you, mayhap it never will. Given that such situations like to play havoc with time and space as they see fit, who can even say? But I know you, Prompto.

[sorry prompto basically blanked out when x'rhun started talking about some kind of philosophy. it sounded like the beginning of a documentary, he isn't too sure, since he wasn't paying attention...]

[he blinks several times]

Shit, you really know my name.

[that's one of the only bits he gets, really.]

--I mean, it's strange, but I kinda get it, I guess? Sorry, again. For not really remembering you or knowing who you are? [he squints a bit and then crosses his arms over his chest.] So your name is...?

And who's this other person you mentioned? Ah -- but you also know about Leviathan and Ramuh!

[ He’ll broaden your vocabulary yet, boy.

It’s clear a lot of that went in one ear and out the other, since Prompto only seems to latch onto the mention of his name. Not that X’rhun can particularly blame him, since he did throw rather a lot out there all at once.

As ever, he just presses forward. ]

My name is X’rhun Tia. You can simply call me X’rhun, if you like. And it is hardly your fault whether you remember me or not, but I should like to get to know you again, if you don’t mind.

[ A chuckle. ]

One thing at a time. Alisaie is from my star, a former student of mine. She and… you, I suppose, were quite close. As for the rest, Hydaelyn shares some similarities with Eos, though some notable differences as well.

I mean... You seem pretty nice, as a person? Miqo'te! Sorry.

[he's trying to get used to all this new vocabulary.]

Annnnnd if we got along in some other dimension or somethin', then that's gotta count for something, right? I'm trusting myself on this.

[at least, prompto is easy going like this. especially since x'rhun has been nothing but polite and pleasant.]

[lol a girl tho] Oh, she's a girl! [he leans forward a bit, hand cupped on the side as if implying he's letting x'rhun in on a secret.] Honestly, I'm not that great with friending girls. [no more hushed-whispering] So, cool to know I managed.

Did you and other-me compare notes? This is so weird [snorts] but it seems like you know quite a bit about my world.

I’m still a person, Prompto.

[ Just a different flavor of person. Cat flavored.

He has to huff out a laugh at Prompto’s aside, however. He’s not so certain if he wants to drop it on him just yet that not only were he and Alisaie close, they were married. ] You managed quite well, I think.

[ That’s all he has to say about that. ]

But, ‘tis true. I do know a fair bit about Eos. I would happily tell you of Hydaelyn, in return.

Person, right, gotcha.

[he's trying to be as PC as possible but it's hard when he has very little filter and everything comes off as unintentionally bad.]

[at least he's got his charming personality to help him along!]

--wait, so, if you met me before, [as crazy as that sounds] does that mean you also met Noct?

[ X’rhun is notoriously difficult to offend. If he had a gil for every time someone on the other world had stared at him or wanted to pet his ears, he would have many gil indeed. ]

I know of your friend Noctis more than I truly know him. There were many, many people being kept in stasis pods, deemed not well enough to be roused. Some would wake periodically, and just as suddenly, some would return to sleep. Noctis was awake a handful of times, but always ferried away back to the station ere long. I did not have the pleasure of making his acquaintance aside from a few token greetings. So, too, did I briefly meet the Lady Lunafreya.

The two of them and yourself aside, there is… only one other from your world that I came to know.

[prompto leans back on his foot, his crossed arms tightening a bit as he listens on. he turns his sudden nervous energy onto biting the inside of his cheek. what x'rhun is telling him is like arriving halfway through into a lecture and trying to pretend he totally understands what the formulas on the board mean, without context whatsoever.]

[stasis pods, for instance, has him really trying to understand what that means at all. waking up periodically, returning to sleep...]

Going back to sleep sounds totally like a Noct thing.

[he tries to remedy with a half-hearted laugh, hoping not to give away that he's mostly confused and without real clear understanding. the mention of lady lunafreya, however, has come standing straighter and his shoulders tensing.]

Lady Lunafreya...

[it shows on his face; how his smile falls and his eyebrows furrow, his expression taking on a more serious drop.]

What's with the suspense?

[ X’rhun is going to have to readjust the way he explains things again – he lived with this for a year, with that infernal space station and that terribly cold room of glass tubes. And he lived with Prompto, too. It will be an adjustment, starting from scratch.

He may very well be leaving Prompto in the dust, but there’s a lot to cover and, for the moment, he doesn’t seem to realize it.

He hesitates for just a moment more before offering, ]

It is not my intention to leave you hanging. I simply… I know how you’d react were I to bring up Ardyn.

[his eyes narrow. he has no reason to suspect or fear x'rhun (he thinks, anyway), and the man is right in assuming that prompto would have a kind of reaction at bringing up that name at all.]

[for one, prompto doesn't seem all too amused.]

[(as expected)]

And what's yours?

[the bruise on his cheek, the faded out shape of a hand around his throat. prompto's not here for anyone thinking ardyn is Friend Material.]

[ X’rhun isn’t one to leap to conclusions, but having already spoken to Ardyn, he is aware of the little altercation he and Prompto had at the party. Ardyn may not have said he retaliated, but he didn’t need to. ]

My what? My reaction to Ardyn, you mean? I know enough of the man to know you were perfectly justified when you clocked him, but it seems you got a bit more than you bargained for with that, didn’t you?

[ His eyes flick to the mark around Prompto’s throat, then back up to his face. ]

[prompto seems defensive, suddenly, pulling up a hand to rub around his neck where he knows the bruise the shape of a hand blooms various mottled shades. old habits means that he dips his chin downwards, because if he had his bangs they'd help hide his eyes.]

--he isn't exactly a nice person. I'm not saying I didn't deserve it, but that's not what I'm referring to.

[he looks up again at x'rhun, their eyes meeting.]

How do I know you aren't working with him?

[ X’rhun’s eyebrows shoot up at the accusation – the accusation couched in a question. He had not even considered the possibility that Prompto might think him the enemy, but then he had not considered that Prompto would have no memory of him either. What a mess. ]

I’m not, though I suppose you’ve no reason to take the word of a complete stranger.

[ Nor does he expect to be able to convince Prompto of that fact right here and right now, and he also knows that being completely honest is likely to do more harm than good, but… he can’t lie. Not to Prompto. Whatever happens, happens, and X’rhun will deal with the ramifications. ]

I spent the last year in his company and yours. I know well what kind of man he is, the things he has done, especially when it comes to you and your friends. Should he attempt to harm you, I would endeavor to stop it.

But neither would I want to see him come to harm.

[this sounds... complicated. prompto shows his tense unease at the situation by grabbing at his damp hair and scrubbing at his scalp with his knuckles. it doesn't seem crazy to think ardyn wouldn't have someone who would consider him a friend, but even with everything...]

[...someone would still stand by his side?]

[his gut twists uncomfortably at the thought, and he doesn't really know why.]

...guess it's gotta be hard to pick sides.

[it's what he offers instead, not willing to trifle this further with whatever vitriol prompto may or may not ave towards the subject of their conversation.]

Even with knowing everything you're still willing to stick at his side. He's gotta be a really cool friend.

[if someone told him noctis was evil and killed a couple of people? yeah, he'd still be at noctis's side, to be fair.]

ARRIVAL LOG 005

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his socks are the true victims here...

a tragedy for the ages...

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