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

wow my typos though

[fessus]

... I know the words, separately, they just don't make any sense together.

[ He suddenly seems to realize he's running the risk of being called an idiot, or at least that's probably what Gladio would say right about now. Damn it. He lifts his chin, suddenly turning away to fish the second ingredient out of the fridge at long last -- jelly. Truly, an artisanal sandwich. ]

Whatever... it's not a big deal... [ why ]

Have you run into anyone else you know, at least?

[verflair]

'Tis alright. I realize my way of speaking might be strange to some. I don't mind offering clarification if need be.

[ Now that is the million gil question, isn't it? X'rhun watches Noctis fish a jar of jelly up from somewhere. Yes, this is a sandwich for the ages. ]

No one from my home, if that's what you mean. There are others who are familiar to me from the other world, though.

[fessus]

Ahh... From your world, not from your world, either one, I guess. Just people you know. Figured that would probably make things easier.

[ He halts upon approaching the sandwich, realizing he again needs help and that asking for it is still an uncomfortable proposition. Getting his arm out of this sling soon will be such a welcome boon. ]

[verflair]

[ He just reaches over to hold the sandwich steady again, without being asked this time. ]

I am running into the little issue of these people not knowing who I am, however. Yourself, for one.

[fessus]

[ Bless you, there's a momentary look of gratitude from Noctis himself before--

well, that. ]

Hah? Me? You waited this long to say it and even let me introduce myself... geeze... Well, whatever. I guess I shouldn't be all that surprised; you're not the first guy that's met me in another world and who I don't know.

[verflair]

[ He grins, flicking an ear at Noctis in amusement. ]

Would you have preferred I waltzed into the kitchen and declared, “Hello, Prince Noctis! Lovely to see you, how are things on Eos?”

1/2

[fessus]

[ !!! ]

2/2

[fessus]

Well... no, just...

Hold on, there has to be some kind of middle ground! Geeze...

[verflair]

[ Welcome to X'rhun's sense of humor, Noct. ]

I believe I did as well as can be expected, given the circumstances.

[fessus]

No, the right way would've been to say "hey, Noctis" and then when I said I didn't remember you you could explain. Not... asking me about Eos or calling me "prince" or whatever.

[ god, X'rhun ]

[verflair]

Ah, well. Live and learn. You'd think I'd be better at this, considering this is the third or fourth time I've made your acquaintance.

[ is he making this better or worse? ]

[fessus]

... so you remember meeting me a lot of times, but I don't get to remember anything? None of this stuff makes any sense anymore...

[ But at least now the assembly of this sandwich is complete, marked by a slice of bread being slapped down over the other. ] --thanks for this anyway, I owe you one.

[verflair]

Ah, that is… rather complicated. The Natha – the people who claim to have saved us from the end of our worlds – kept everyone asleep and frozen upon their space station. You woke and ventured to the planet’s surface a handful of times, though you never seemed to remember your previous stays, however brief. Don’t ask me why or how.

[ It sure sounds silly now that he’s having to explain it to someone who (maybe) wasn’t there. ]

My dear boy, if the most difficult thing I have to do all day is help someone put together a sandwich, I daresay I’m set. You owe me nothing.

[fessus]

Kinda' seems to be the trend here so far. Ahh, makes me wonder how old I actually am if I keep missing stuff that happens to me and forgetting it.

[ A lame joke, foiled largely by the fact that now that he's said it it's a very real concern. A jarring one. ]

And if you say so... still, I'll keep an eye out for whatever I can do to give you a hand.

[verflair]

[ X'rhun's ears swivel in Noctis' direction, as if attempting to gauge the seriousness of that statement by radar. Whatever conclusion he comes to, he keeps to himself. ]

Well, whatever the answer may be, you've aged quite gracefully.

[ An attempt at a joke back, then, accompanied by a small smile and the twitching of one ear. ]

Ah, ere we get too far ahead of ourselves, I feel it is only fair to let you know that you were not the only soul from Eos I encountered in my stay on that other world.

[fessus]

... ah, thanks...

[ Is this a real compliment? It doesn't feel like one, but if he takes it as one then it feels like he's won either way. He'll go with it. ]

Yeah? Wonder if there's any overlap... Who else was it?

[verflair]

[ Sure, it can be a real compliment if he wants it to be. (Though X’rhun as seen Noctis a full decade older than he is now, just as briefly as literally every other time he saw him, but he does know that Noct does age gracefully at least??) ]

Your friend Prompto, for one. Similarly, he doesn’t know who I am.

The other… would be Ardyn.

[fessus]

[ Well, if any name would succeed at chilling his blood right now and shifting the mood entirely, it's that one. Noctis doesn't look back, quiet for a moment. ]

... you're on good terms?

[verflair]

[ Mentioning Ardyn usually has that effect on those from Eos, he's noticed. Given what he knows of the man, that's not a surprise in the least, he only wishes he could avoid this conversation upon first meetings.

However, it would be remiss of him not to mention it. ]

We are. We spent the last year together on the other world, and I came to know him quite well.

[fessus]

[ They have a positive relationship, even with this man being familiar with Ardyn's life, behavior, and history? Or maybe he just thinks he knows him well, an option preferable to the idea that this person he's had a pleasant conversation with in some way condones Ardyn's actions. He's silent for a moment, trying to decide whether or not he should just walk away now.

It's tempting. ]

... what do you think he'll do here?

[verflair]

[ Positive, yes, but more than that, it is extremely complicated. He knows, likely knows more than Noctis does himself, and has chosen this path regardless. ]

Here? Difficult to say. He’s not pleased to be here, even less pleased thanks to the stripping of his abilities. Though that does leave him rather limited pertaining to what he can do.

[ Prompto decking him upon their first meeting likely only added fuel to the fire. X’rhun gets the very real sensation that he’s going to have his hands full dealing with Ardyn and Noctis and his friends. ]

‘Tis almost a certainty that he’ll be unpleasant, antagonistic and mean-spirited, and as much as I have tried to persuade him otherwise, I’m afraid you and yours have rather large targets upon your backs.

[fessus]

[ They're a collection of understatements conveyed through softer language than Noctis would ever use for such a situation and it's frustrating. How the hell is that specific? He'll be unpleasant? Noctis has a target on his back? How the hell could he not know that now? ]

What the hell... You're never gonna' be able to change his mind, so you should save your breath. I... touched his hand, earlier. When I ran into him.

You dealt with the empathy bond yet?

[verflair]

[ Ah, well… that bit of knowledge changes a whole lot. X’rhun is sticking his nose where it really doesn’t belong, and not knowing who knows what about either party has made him tread with caution. However, nothing quite opens the door like getting a glimpse of one’s heart, so to speak. ]

I have. And from Ardyn as well, no less.

[ It was brief, but it had been… a lot. Not surprising considering the man has been around for millennia. ]

I know it’s likely difficult to believe given the sheer amount of vitriol pointed in your direction, but he doesn’t mean to kill you.

[fessus]

Then you know what the hell I'm talking about.

[ With a curled fist now resting against the counter top. He takes a deep breath, willing his temper to relax itself but that's easier said than done. X'rhun must've felt the overwhelming anger that he did, poisonous and acrid. ]

He told me exactly what he "means" to do. Kill me? Yeah... just not here. Guess that makes us best friends now, since he's willing to wait.

[verflair]

[ Probably not to the extent Noctis had – X’rhun is not the source of Ardyn’s anger, after all – but he had certainly felt it. Anger and unrelenting hatred. ]

No. [ Said softly, his ears folding back in something like sadness. ] Not here.

What do you know, Noctis? About Ardyn and all that he means to do?