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

[vns]

Whoever has the convenience of being on top of it all. Who can make false promises and never have anything come their way. I'm being vague, but it's easy to see that I mean corporations.

[ she cants her head forward. the fact that Peggy is listening – Gaby doesn't try to play favorites.

it's just that there are some who have tested her patience more. especially at this state.

largely at this state. ]

It's just that the people behind them are harder to get at. That Morningstar is still going means that we've exercised caution. It doesn't always sit well with others. And it's not like some monarchy. You take out someone in charge there, you can probably cause enough chaos. They have failsafes here to prevent the worst, and we can't leave people without our help.

[ go after the big guns, but don't forget the little people.

Gaby's an idealist, though. she's not thinking about gunning in any way, either in taking or shooting a bullet.

her view is this: finding proof people are corrupt is negligible. destroying systems that have been in place for hundreds of years is far more important now that hundreds are being sent off into the colonies to be forgotten. a convenient measure. ]

[revlon]

[ Peggy hums lightly, both sympathetic and thoughtful. ]

You have to be cautious if you mean to make any of it sustainable, [ she agrees, knowing this isn't something Gaby needs to be told or reassured of. It's just that it's how any resistance movement survived during the war. ] Being flashy is easier, maybe more impressive. But these sort of things aren't won on simply being impressive.

[ Although Gaby is certainly that, laying this all out for her. And resilient, clearly, which is just as key as bullheaded determination. Of course, Gaby is one woman, a part of a much larger and very unknown whole; and while Peggy has been assured she can trust her and the organisation, she still needs more to go on. She needs more insight into the matter from more than one source, even though each will be biased no matter who she speaks with — be it her fellow displaced or maybe another individual from Morningstar (if she ever meets one).

It's a puzzle she's keen to explore. But more than anything, she knows Gaby and Morningstar are on their side. The reasoning, beyond being in the dark with people like her, is secondary for now. Peggy and the others like her are alone and they need allies; can't afford to be picky. Maybe it really is as simple as that and the answers and consequences will come (and be dealt with) later. ]

So, speaking of getting off on the right foot — how can we help? [ She'd asked Fitz what Morningstar wanted of them in return for their hospitality and he said nothing. Only that we don't shit the bed. She's sure he believes that, given how long he's been here. But even so. ] I understand we've caused a particular mess, [ she says, quoting the other woman's earlier turn of phrase. ] But you're clearly nothing if not adaptable, doing what you do. Surely after five shipments of us, you're working the problem.

[ And are open to putting the problem to work. It's what she'd do. ]

[vns]

In a way.

[ Gaby doesn't believe in "putting the problem to work." her ideals make her staunchly against it. people don't always want to do this kind of good. they don't always agree on what it takes. that end game is rough to define. uncertain. murky. ]

We support you all. As best as we can, and we only give if someone offers something in return.

[ no one at Morningstar is naive enough to think they aren't all working the system. not everyone wants to join up, but nearly everyone needs answers.

but still. there are the upstarts. the people who think they can act as a point of contact right after they've arrived. it's not that Gaby resents them for it, but Morningstar can't waste resources. risk blowing covers. they protect their people – as best as they can. ]

So – I'm not asking anyone to clean up a mess. But our enemies may be one and the same. Hard to say.

[ Gaby doesn't know. she just assumes. money and power, they go hand in hand. ]

Beyond that ... I'd say it depends on what you want to do. "Working the problem" for me means making sure no one runs into traffic and rides on top of a hover car. Working the problem for a lot of you means chasing down leads, using what you can and what you have available to you because we can only do so much.

[ not because they're limited. but because it's a big fucking job, and Morningstar is already tackling a big fucking job.

(the evils of capitalism.) ]

[revlon]

[ Peggy hums again, a thoughtful and affirmative sound in lieu of any real response. It makes sense to her; all of it. Even if she might not entirely agree with a point here or there, the overall picture is painted with strokes she herself would use if the situations were at all reversed. She's gotten the impression that Morningstar has been around for years, must be at least five, which means they don't need to actively recruit help from anyone and especially not from their ranks. Why? The word would be out there about them, their reputation doing the legwork; if anyone wants in, then they find their way to the door.

Wasn't that how the war worked at home? The men and women who signed up and those who were drafted. Our enemies may be one and the same. If she puts her name forward here, it's a means to an end, and a reasonable one at that. Why shy away from a lead and a helping hand? It's as good as any other. If there are consequences beyond the present, then they'll be dealt with. Thinking ahead is useful but not when it obstructs the now. And Peggy Carter makes a point of vaulting over such things to get to an answer. ]

Well, it's as you said, [ she murmurs at length, sitting forward again, one elbow on the kitchen table. ] We might be coming at the same problem, the same mystery, from different angles. The more eyes on it the better.

[ A quirk of her lips. She does love the bigger picture. Wouldn't do to get bogged down in the details and what's brewing in this city, in this world, is bigger than their handful of human experiments. If anything, they're a symptom of something else. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. ]

But a lot of what you said reminds me of — well, [ she's not about to state her war record, but she does huff out a breath, almost a laugh. ] It's familiar. Familiar enough for me to consider tossing my hat into the ring. [ A beat, and she adds: ] Not right this moment. It's been... a long bloody day and I'd like to sleep on all of it. But if that's something I wanted to pursue, [ Peggy meets the other woman's eyes, steady despite the exhaustion. ] Are you the one to speak with?

[vns]

That's right.

[ simple enough – though Gaby's always surprised when someone reaches out to join up. they don't have a reason to care about this world. Peggy seems to have a better head about it than most. it's good that most of the people who come in are – well – good, but ...

strange still. ]

For now? Go get your rest.

[ a beat. a hint of recognition. ]

If you'd like. I'm not your boss.

[ even something simple like that can get someone following. Casper proved as much. best to be careful. ]

[revlon]

[ The compliance drugs are hours out of her system by now, but there's still that reflexive jolt to her stomach when the words are phrased the way they are — but that's it. The impulse doesn't come. Relieving to have bloody free will, isn't it? Horrifying to think (know) she was robbed of it, at least temporarily.

No, Gaby isn't her boss or even a friend, but that doesn't stop her from almost smirking a little. Another impulse, one a little trickier to curb for the years it was drilled into her before this place. Yes, ma'am, is the cheeky salute she'd fire off anywhere else. But not here. ]

When I come from, [ she says as she stands slowly, stretching, ] you certainly wouldn't be. But things are different now, aren't they? At least in some ways. Can't say I mind seeing another woman in charge. [ Peggy considers the other woman then extends a hand to shake, unsure if the bond works here too, but knowing manners are key. ] Thank you, Gaby. I appreciate you taking the time to answer my questions.

Good night.

[ Day. Same difference. ]