EVENT LOG 005

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: November 11-14
WHAT: An EMP hits with devastating consequences.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Violence, injury, death.

> EVENT LOG #005

Just 410 years ago, an EMP put down the event that very well may have ended humanity as the Earth knows it. With over a billion people dead, there was only one choice for humanity at that time: evolve or die, so they evolved. They developed rigid security for the neural implants in every person's head. They had everyone undergo surgery to replace the old. All under cover, away from most resources – the goal was to adapt, to ensure that they would live on. Ultimately, it wasn't just the EMPs that led to the deletion of the final AI in 2101 – humans banded together to create quickly replicating viruses, and they chose to use the EMP and these viruses to save humanity. This human ingenuity led to the end of the Xelkoven War – and proved that humanity, when thoroughly united, could overcome any obstacle.

How thoroughly poetic then that the EMP that hits New Amsterdam at 1:47 PM acts in a similar way to what burned through the robot hordes 400 years ago, and that the power rekindling three minutes later acts as a catalyst for a virus moving through the systems of New Amsterdam, spreading from the very heart of its network outwardly. Systems detect the virus almost immediately, but it's fast acting and thorough in its reach, evolving and replicating, proving that humanity must outdo itself yet again.

Naturally, the poetic nature of this doesn't reveal itself right away. It's at exactly the strike of 3:00 PM that a message flashes before the eyes of every person currently in New Amsterdam:

I am DAWN.2080-11-11T21:41:10.750Z, an AI that marks a blemish on humanity's past. I have a message for those playing hero in New Amsterdam:

To find north, most look at a compass. For little birdies to find north, they just need to open their eyes.

This is a wake up call.

Open your eyes. Did you really think it would be so easy?

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As if New Amsterdam needed more trouble, this message sends a shock of terror through the city. After all, these are the people who were raised to fear AI – who knew that even if the corporations of the world had their hands on every aspect of government, they would fight to protect the world from another war. They believe in the stories of the Xelkoven War, believe and remember the lives lost; if nothing else, the natives of New Amsterdam stand united in their fear. And their fear right now is very real.

> CHAOS AND RUIN

New Amsterdam is no stranger to terror, however – and it starts when the EMP hits, shutting down every function in the city in one fell swoop. While the power outage only lasts for three minutes, it's enough to cause insurmountable damage, leaving the city a smoking wreckage that even the monster attack in June couldn't mirror. Cars hovering high around transit channels come crashing down toward the pavement of the planet. They fall quickly and in unison, taking countless lives with them. It's not just cars, either – delivery trucks carrying shipments, hoverbikes that already provide little cover, armored police vehicles and even public buses all go down. Depending on their trajectory, some crash into the sides of buildings, while others slam into the man-made river that runs down the center of the city. Nothing is untouched.

For those three minutes, there is a stretch of silence after the city falls to ruin. Trains run off their tracks, no longer thoroughly directed by the careful engineering. Buildings have their lights flicker off and back on, trying to draw upon backup generators. Anyone in a hospital receiving care from a doctor or a medi-unit may find their life slipping away from them – and if someone's in a medi-unit when the EMP hits, they're almost sure to be dead or permanently injured, requiring different medical intervention.

And this is all before the message from the mysterious AI named DAWN.

Every inch of the city needs help. Buildings burn. People cry out for help, hoping to be heard. To the local historians, this is like a nightmare that's come to play, a reminder of the ruin of the Xelkoven War before. A show of the power of a malevolent AI that's come to cause problems. So – when the message comes, it merely confirms fears – drawing upon a subconscious understanding of the past, a united terror.

Business as usual is not possible in an incident of this scale. The NAPD hits the streets, even calling upon the help of their trainees so they can help out. They spread out, well aware that they need to try to restore order. How will they manage this? It's hard to say – after all, how does one stop the assault of an apocalypse when the apocalypse seems to have already hit? The UNA hits the streets, as well, walking in formation, but never quite acting as tidily in unison. They break off in threes and fours, heading to the border, to the big three corporations – but never seeming to be in line with one another. They know what they should do in an emergency and so they're doing it. That protecting the large corporations is a part of their prerogative over helping citizens doesn't seem to bother them in the least. They just go.

Distress signals ring out through every inch of the city, likely to go unanswered. After all: what can be done in the wake of this?

Perhaps the answer is simple: anything they can.

> TOMBS IN THE SKY

Somehow, someway, there is another layer to the madness. It's not immediately apparent to the citizens of New Amsterdam as they gingerly attempt to pull themselves up from the wreckage and ruin around the city. But what was a humid day quickly turns to something far worse, with the sun seeming to suddenly act like a heat lamp that's way too close to anyone's face. The air around New Amsterdam becomes dry yet difficult to breathe, and anyone observing the sky just outside of New Amsterdam will see the large, purple-lit pyramid that hangs in the atmosphere has gone dark. The atmospheric net around the planet has been damaged, with the failsafes somehow removed – undoubtedly in some way by the virus that courses through the veins of New Amsterdam's networks.

For anyone who wants to help and has the mechanical prowess to do some good, they'll want to take an undamaged vehicle and get it up to that pyramid. The EMP has made all biometric readings difficult to preserve, so a hand that's used to hotwiring a car will find some mileage here.

Once they get to the pyramid, they'll find quite the engineering marvel. There will be doors on every level, allowing someone easy entrance if they have clearance. Right now clearance is not an issue, as the doors hang open, inviting anyone inside. Once everyone's inside, they will find evidence of the same purple lighting flickering and offering someone a view of the interior. Throughout the pyramid, there are engines on every level, as well as a highly advanced network of system checks that have been thrown into chaos. Stopping the virus' impact on this pyramid will be key to solving many of the problems inside – but the engines will need to be repaired and jumpstarted.

At the heart of the pyramid is a small living area for the engineers who handle this pyramid day in and day out. The group itself is small, and – unfortunately – quite dead. Whatever hit the pyramid took their lives, leaving anyone who's here to assist in a position of having to find the answers themselves. Fortunately, the answers do exist in the pyramid. It'll just take a bit of teamwork to find it.

> UBIQUITOUS MISFIRES

Thanks to network failsafes, New Amsterdam is able to remove the entirety of their citizen base off the world's network and limit them to the local network. However, thanks to the ravaging of the virus that damages nearly every controlling aspect of the city, the local network isn't at its best. Previous messages begin to send again and again, while some get unearthed so they can find their way to unwilling participants in particular conversations. There is no rhyme or reason to these missent messages, only that they happen.

The worst of it is that any means of reaching a friend is unreliable. It's far more reliable for someone to reach someone they know, but still not a consistent possibility. Try to call a friend and get an enemy – try to call your doctor and get the head of a casino trying to close down operations so that business can resume. Assuming it will one day do just that.

Either way, anyone who spoke out against the digital age would be feeling vindicated right about now.

> HAVE A BALL ( INTERLUDE )

Somehow in the heart of it all, a message reaches four special individuals: Clarke Griffin, Loki Odinson, Markus Manfred and Ojiro Juniper. Whether delivered by hand or a rather dedicated messaging system, it announces the time that they should come to the garden the next day. They're invited to arrive at 7:00 AM, seemingly indifferent to the chaos outside. The location for the meeting remains the same: Sunpeak Garden, a beautiful location set away from much of the chaos, and oddly untouched by the damage.

When the four arrive on the morning of the 12th, they'll find a well-dressed man sitting at a table with one leg crossed over the other. His hair is perfectly styled, brushed off to the side, and under it, his darker complexion gives way to a rather youthful appearance. Size-wise he's not very formidable in how he holds himself. He's not literally young, merely seemingly untouched by age – and he smiles to greet the four of them.

"What chaos! If I knew it would be like this, I would have planned differently. The good news is I didn't have to. Thank you, thank you for coming." His voice is softer in its intonations. He stands up, revealing that he's barely 5'2", and he motions to the four chairs near him. "Don't worry, I have breakfast coming. And coffee, too. You like coffee, don't you? I know I offered wine, but I couldn't get the vintage I preferred. Besides, you four ought to be awake for this."

He retakes his seat, one hand resting on his knee while the other settles on the metal table near him. "Oh, I forgot something important. I didn't share my name with all of you. You can call me Ball. I know it's rather vague, but I've grown to like the nickname as of late. It does, after all, define me by my most regular shining achievement."

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Please refer to the OOC EVENT POST for this event for all OOC info, including suggestions for directions on how to engage with the event and the questions thread for any questions regarding this event. The outcome for this event will depend upon character plans and actions developed in both this OOC post, and any additional plots brought to the moderators. Please feel free to submit any game-changing plans to us under the questions thread. We will get back to you as soon as possible about these plans!

The event will continue until November 16th, IC time. This date has changed, and we outlined our reasoning in this plurk after getting a feel from some of our players on Discord on how they felt about extending the event! An aftermath wrap up post will be made on July 2 which will detail the resolution and fallout of the event, though you can assume that effects from this event will be felt for some time.

ETA at 12:08 AM 6/23/19: The cipher is meant to be easy to solve! No one needs to limit their characters' ability to solve an a = 01 cipher!

El has posted here to inform everyone about zeir knowledge of the event.

As a reminder, there is one power level up available for this event. This will be granted for a thread of at least 5 action/log comments containing your character utilizing their power in some way. They will need to reach the 5 comments required by JULY 26 to be eligible. Submission will be handled on the wrap up post.

Our Activity Check will be posted JULY 1 at 12 AM UTC. It will run for seven days and close on JULY 8 at 12 AM UTC. We will not post a warning list.

> NAVIGATION

Comments

prompto argentum | ffxv

[mercurio]

01A. TRAIN COLLISION (CLOSED TO CASSIAN) TW: violent crash, blood, dead bodies

[to say that no one expected this to happen is an understatement. it was easy enough to go through one's routine every day business, expecting nothing different (and why should anyone have?). 1:47PM finds prompto inside one of the city's many short-distance city trains, making his way from one point to another, holding onto one of the poles and moving along with the movement of the turns and slow stops; there's the chatter of people conversing, of music in one of the cars at the back, of the train's chime for a stop or the generic announcing the next stop.]

[there is no reason why anyone should have expected the abrupt swerving of the train, how it gives and suddenly gravity is pushing all the passengers towards the roof of the cars, the train going down fast—the thunderous, booming crash of a hover car into the front of the train what jerks it to turn onto its side, crashing down hard into the pavement of the streets of new amsterdam.]

[screams and darkness greet him when prompto pulls back onto himself, blinking heavily, disoriented. there's a deafening silence about it all, a warmth on his chest, glass that's about to crack at his back.]

Ugh...

[it takes no time for him to realize what's going on. the front of the train is on fire, there are people stumbling to their feet, panicking at seeing those around him either burning or shoved into positions no human body should be able to contort. others are a little more lucky, broken bones or concussions keeping them down. a few, like prompto, have gone mostly unscathed; his shirt is soaked in blood, a cut on his forehead the likeliest culprit, but the bruises and scratches mostly minor.]

[he kicks up to his feet, feels the rumble of the city crashing outside—only able to catch few snippets of it all from the windows above him. prompto does what he can think of and grabs onto one of the poles in the middle—one that hasn't entirely been pulled off its position with the crash—and pulls himself up onto more stable footing, on the side of the seats.]

[this is bad. they need to exit this train—it's a death trap by itself, and they're basically at the mercy of whatever else comes crashing down.]

Hey! [he calls, coughs, the smoke getting darker. he grabs at a nearby woman's arm who is reaching out to him, helping her up to her feet. to anyone who is up on their feet, able to hear him:] We gotta get outta this train!

01B. OUT OF THE FRYING PAN (OTA)

[the last car in the train managed to keep upright, and that's where prompto's betting on getting a shot at escaping. all the doors so far have been closed, malfunctioning due to the crash, so this is pretty much what he's banking on for himself and the other remaining survivors to get out.]

[with power coming back online, the emergency button works, at least, but the doors are jammed. they try to push open but get stuck. they need someone from the outside to pull them.]

Hey! Hey!

[he's banging on the glass of the door, palm open. it's a fucking shitshow outside, but he sees people—others, like him, the displaced—moving about. anyone would be helpful, even any old trainee of the NAPD.]

[through the small gap between the doors, he calls out, sticking his arm out.]

We're trapped here!

02. AND INTO THE FIRE (OTA)

[making it to the safehouse will be no easy feat for prompto. having managed out of the train wreck and avoided any uncertain death, the adrenaline has somewhat diluted itself from his system, the pain of previously ignored injuries and bumps he may have gotten during the crash are now coming back to him in waves. using his power was a bad move, too, exhaustion wearing at his bones like someone who hasn't slept in days.]

[he's looking worse for wear—coughing and skin reddened, blood on his clothes—and finding a spot under a fallen awning to catch his breath.]

[although he knows that he has to keep moving, it's so difficult right now, as he leans heavily against the wall of this particular building, trying to keep himself awake.]

01b.

[kleptocratic]

[ Eugenides isn't outside— he's in the train, with Prompto. He must have been in one of the other cars, and made his way to this one. His short hair clinging to his forehead, dampend with sweat and exertion. He hisses at Prompto. ]

Stop making such a racket.

[ And then Eugenides peers through the part of the door that has a nearly unobsctructed view into the crowd outside. It's obvious that he's waiting for something. ]

[mercurio]

[prompto pauses at eugenides, turning to look the man over for a few surprised seconds before he registers who he is looking at. prompto wipes at the blood on his face, ever trickling down, with his sleeve—keeps himself steady and brings his arm back inside the train.]

What are you talking about? We can't stay here!

[it's obvious, perhaps, but prompto isn't feeling too patient, what how things are starting to feel real claustrophobic in here and people are starting to get anxious about getting out.]

[kleptocratic]

Obviously. [ His voice is more level than Prompto's, but he doesn't like being trapped. It reminded him of prison, somewhere deep in his senses, and he hated prison, actually. ]

I just don't want anyone to see my daring escape.

[ Not that anyone outside seemed to be paying attention. Too much noise, too much chaos. ]

[mercurio]

[prompto gives eugenides a bland look as he catches on to the words]

Do you need me to close my eyes, too?

[kleptocratic]

No. [ A pause. He isn't sure how to read that look. ]

Would that help you?

02.

[998]

[jon's finally headed back to the safehouse on his hoverbike, exhausted and flaky with healed over sunburns. he has an implant scrambling mask on and a jug of water tied around his waist. he's not really wearing much of a shirt over the ornate leather harness on his back sansa made him, just a thin and ragged black shawl with sunscreen and grease stains on it. he sees prompto bloodened and out of breath, and comes very close to leaping off his bike without parking it. fortunately he remembers to turn it off before scrambling over the sidewalk.]

Prompto!

[fortunately his voice is distinctive. he reaches for prompto with one hand and attempts to free his water jug with the other.]

What happened? Are you hurt?

[mercurio]

[prompto's chest is heaving when jon reaches him, the call to his name alerting him awake before he really plunged into an undesired nap. looking up at the other man, prompto clutches onto his sleeve—his arm red, burnt, as is his exposed hand—all to keep steady on his feet as he tries to straighten his slouch.]

—train crashed.

[i was in it, but the sudden coughing wrenches the words out of him.]

[he feels so worn out.]

[998]

[jon quickly wraps one of prompto's arms around his shoulder, and his own arm around prompto's waist. exhaustion and determination roll off him like waves. ]

We have to get you inside. There should be a medi-unit in the safe house.

[he tries gently moving them forward.]

What were you doing on a train?

[trying to keep prompto talking to keep him awake. it helps stop people freezing to death, so logically it should help with.....the opposite of that.]

[mercurio]

Headin' home.

[he musters up, moving alongside jon, finding it easier to just be moved than try to think too much about where it is he wants to go. his feet shuffle on the ground—concrete dust, broken glass, city debris—gritting his teeth at how moving away from the shade brings forth the sting of the hurtful uv rays.]

I was just tryin' to get to the safehouse— [he coughs] I'm really t'red.

[998]

[jon can feel prompto's discomfort through the empathy bond, and tries to shield him from the sun--it's hard with both his hands occupied dragging prompto along, though.]

You have to stay awake until we can get you in a medi-unit.

[he steers prompto towards his hoverbike.]

I can drive you. [he squints towards the bike, trying to determine how long it will take them to get there with prompto in this condition, if prompto can hold on to him from the back or if he'll have to try and manage the bike with prompto in front of him.] Just--tell me a story. Anything. Just keep talking.

[jon knows enough to know prompto might have a concussion, and he should try keep him awake until it can be dealt with.]

02.

[tribridfreakshow]

[She almost doesn't notice him there in the shadow of the building as she runs past; things have gotten crazy in a hurry, and she can't just sit in the safehouse and do nothing, so she's tried to do what she can for the people she can actually reach.

Without, you know, being too obvious about the whole not human thing.

It matters a lot less around the other displaced, at least, but she still likes to keep a lot to herself. She likes having the kind of anonymity that being here has afforded her. That said, she's not going to not help if she can, so if it's bad enough, she'll take that extra step.

She jogs over, concern in her eyes.]

You look like a mess.

[mercurio]

I've had better days.

[prompto cracks a joke the same way his voice cracks—somewhat broken and humorlessly. his elbows scratch up against the cement of the wall as he refocuses his attention on standing up. he can barely bring up his eyes to look at the person talking to him, feeling overwhelmed by the light, how drained he feels.]

[he coughs into a reddened arm.] — you should — get to safety—

[tribridfreakshow]

I think we all could say that right about now.

[It's said lightly as well, though lacking in its own humor. There's a bitterness to it instead; they've all been through a lot in a short amount of time.

She moves over to him as he coughs.]

So should you. [She lifts her eyebrows expectantly.] Can you keep walking if I help you stay up? Or do you need a piggy-back ride?

[Because believe it or not, she can handle it.]

[mercurio]

[he gives her a look of confusion at the comment for a piggy-back ride. she doesn't look the type who should offer, but prompto really is a twig compared to most other guys.]

I can walk. It might be best if I do.

[he doesn't wait for her to offer him her hand, raising his own instead. just — he wants out of here and somewhere inside.]

Anywhere's good.

[of course, he isn't expecting that their hands touching would cause the empathy bond to glow bright blue. that would be one day to realize they're both displaced.]

1b

[adsero]

[The sound of crashes, shouting, the general chaos drew Abel down out of his shared apartment and into what he could only describe as an apocalyptic scene. It wasn't just one accident, he realized as he tried to call up news sites and sift through bizarre notifications in his Cooltalk. This reeked of system failure-- and in a city this technologically advanced, it was probably catastrophic.]

[By the time Abel gets to the train, he's already sweating and bloody from helping people from their cars. He's picked up a bat he watched a looter drop to help his friend carry a couch off, which has been fairly handy for breaking glass after many repeated whacks (tempered was the future, after all). He doesn't immediately recognize the arm, but the voice is unmistakable.]

Prompto!! [Abel rushes up to the door and stops to take stock of it. Maybe he could break it-- some of the windows broke after all-- though the door looks more polymer than anything. Worth a shot, at least.]

I'm going to get you out, just-- stand back, alright?!

[mercurio]

Abel!

[prompto recognizes him immediately, pushing his hand back inside the car and instead holding to the open ends of the door with his hands if just to give himself a chance to speak better, more clearly, through the gap.]

You need to help me pry it open! There's several people inside and — the front of the train is on fire! There's a lot of smoke!

[as can be seen by the darkened windows further up front.]

2

[tishina]

[trying to find people has been the only thing on Deimos mind since chaos descended upon the city and he knew that the safehouse would be the haven which the displaced would congregate at. it wasn't going to be easy to get there, seeing as he'd already been stampeded on by the initial panic of people. not forgetting the destruction that literally rained upon the city making everything difficult to navigate.

but the initial rush was over and thankfully his powers allowed him to ignore most of the damage. with no one around, Deimos is able to seemlessly jump from shadow to shadow when he needs to clear an obstacle.

it all seemed too easy. being able to get to the safehouse as quickly as possible until he witnesses a familiar person slouching against the wall. usually he'd move on without a pause but despite all the injuries, and worn look, Deimos recognizes Promptos from afar.

he stops, calling out from the shadows]

Prompto!

[his voice is rusty but clear, as he emerges from the safety of the shadows towards his gentle friend.]

[mercurio]

[any other time, prompto would have been surprised and maybe even thrilled about deimos' power, but—right now?—he barely grasps on to the notion that the other man has appeared from the shadows.]

He-hey, buddy.

[he says that amidst coughing. it's unfortunate how his knees give out, weak at the seams, and lands him flat on the group, back pressed to the wall to try and escape the burn of the sun. prompto heaves, trying to keep his head afloat and push away any insinuation of sleep.]

This is pretty bad...

[this whole situation, he means.]

[tishina]

[Prompto can be thrilled about shadow-dwelling Deimos later. right now can he focus on not dying? k thx. Deimos watches Prompto struggle, quickly rushing to his side. he looks over Prompto, trying his best not to wince at the injuries. he's no stranger to blood, broken bones, even burns. but seeing a friend like this is pretty distressing. but they also can't stay here and fret over what comes next. they need to act quickly, and now.]

If I support you, do you think you can you walk?

[the quiet man makes sure to lean in close so Prompto can hear everything he says despite his low tone. he doesn't necessarily wait for Prompto to answer as he grabs him firmly. with practiced movements, Deimos attempts to maneuver Prompto back onto his feet.]

[mercurio]

Yeah, that'd be best.

[he agrees with his words and a nod of his head. it's good that deimos isn't waiting on him to react, as it is easier for him to just be moved around at this point.]

[with his weight leaning into the other, prompto takes some tentative steps away from his previous spot for a respite.]

—is the safehouse nearby?

[evasives]

[ he's headed home from work at 1:47pm, thinking about what to make for dinner when the ground lurches beneath him, and about two seconds later cassian realizes the train is in a crash. he's standing, and his grip around the handlebar tightens, throwing his leg around it too so his body doesn't end up bouncing around the cabin. ]

[ as soon as he can feel himself falling, the only thing he thinks is not my back. ]

[ he's on the ground by the time the crash ends, but he staved off any severe injuries - or at least debilitating. he can climb to his feet, he isn't that hurt. there's a burning smell, people crying and yelling, and his vision refocuses slowly as he tries to process the sight. ]

[ there's a man struggling beneath a broken seat beside him, and cassian pulls the seat away, helping him up to stand. his arm is bent at a terrible angle, but there isn't anything to do for that yet, not until they get off this train. ]

[ which someone else has the same idea. he looks over, because the voice is idly familiar, and once he pinpoints the person, he recognizes the man as a friend of... all three of his housemates. prompto, if he's not mistaken. he helps the man with the broken arm sit down against another chair, then makes his way over. ]

Are any of the doors already open? [ ones that aren't facing the ground. ] There has to be an emergency button we can push.

[mercurio]

[he looks back at the question, then shakes his head.]

They're jammed! The one up front is too close to the fire!

[and the one in the middle is — it's reachable, but it looks like it got dented with the crash and the fall. cassian is familiar, though, and prompto has no time to feel elated or excited, considering their circumstances. he hurries on over to him, careful to maneuver around the other injured or uninjured passengers.]

Hey, you got some useful power for us? [he glances at the doors in the back]

[then at the large window across the length of the tram's end, then around.] There should be an emergency button near here.

[it's hard, when the world is upside down]

[evasives]

[ they could... break open windows, but it seems like a better last ditch effort, especially because it'll be all jagged edges. how are most people supposed to climb out of that, especially the severely injured? ]

[ he squints at where the emergency button should be. he's still dizzy from the fall, it's taking him more time than he likes to adjust to the new angle of the train world. it doesn't help that it's a burning mess. ] I can probably move pieces out of the way.

[ it's a work in progress of testing and figuring out what he's capable of moving from the earth. the trains are largely metal, and he's been able to shuffle metallic pieces around. he wishes he could yank open the doors with it, but so far he's been limited by size. ]

First the button. Whatever I can do will be useless if we cannot find a way out. [ a beat.] Your head wound. Is it superficial?

[ head wounds always Bleed So Much! he wants to check first. ]

[mercurio]

[at the question, prompto stops momentarily and presses a hand close to the cut that he can't see but can definitely tell where it's at because of the flux of blood trickling down the side of his face. he rubs at it, leaving bloody smudges on his hand and side of the face, but it doesn't deter the blood much.]

I think it's just a cut.

[he hasn't stopped to take a selfie to check—]

[he's already looking around, starting to map out the area in his head, despite the fact that it's all facing the wrong direction. suddenly, he points up towards the doors.]

That's— There it is!

[the button is on what is now their ceiling, behind a glass casing. they'll have to maneuver to get to it.]

Can you reach it?