Mingle ∞ Log
No Lifeguard on Duty
Summary
What's going on?
An
unexpected heat wave in mid-June, coupled with the cycling shutdown of all air conditioning units in motels across the Blocks, has made the summer unbearable. Meanwhile, the ever-eager
storm chaser,
Felix Bjurstrom, has uncovered a
fancy resort with a pool in a diffusion zone only 1 hour out from Panorama. Lucky, right? Well...kind of. It's got some quirks.
When is this happening?
June 10 - 30
What should I know?
- This area is one of many diffusion zones that appear throughout the planet.
- A storm chaser is someone dedicated to studying the cosmic phenomenon in the Diadem. Felix is a pioneer in his field.
- A winding highway filled with old empty barrels will take you to the zone.
- Characters can travel with a friend to save on gas! Parking's limited, so it might not be a bad idea.
- At any given time, there's max several dozen visitors. Most work long hours, some are traveling through the diffusion zones, and others prefer not to risk the drive or waste precious gas, so it won't draw a huge crowd (but there's still a crowd!).
- This is a mingle rather than an event. Plot-heavy elements will be minor. The game's first proper event will be posted in July!
What does my character know?
- Having lost his phone, Felix will spread the word using good old-fashioned printed posters that he's put up around Panorama. A young woman is seen helping him. They appear to be close. Some say that's his daughter.
- Though the timing is impossible to predict accurately, Felix believes that due to this zone's unusual proximity to an anchor point, it has a high chance of persisting for 2-3 weeks.
- Directions are printed on the posters, though characters are also free to stumble across the zone by accident.
∞ Links ∞
Introduction
The resort looks like your typical upscale vacation spot: a beautiful pool, lovely cabins, and plenty of pool chairs. The sky is
perpetually nighttime and there are
two moons. One moon is smaller than its sister and glows purple. The other looks like the Earth's moon. The weather is
pleasantly warm. In fact, conditions are almost
too perfect.
Other
fluxdrifts are here, too, and you might come across them, all of whom are taking advantage of the pool. They'll converse superficially with you and will come and go randomly. You'll want to keep a close eye on your belongings. Other than cooling off, this isn't a bad place to start making connections. Life in the Diadem is better when you've got allies if not friends.
Just outside the resort is a
spacious parking lot, designed for visitors. Nobody's following parking rules so put your car anywhere it fits. If you get blocked in, well, that's a problem for when you leave.
At the end of June, the diffusion zone will flicker and morph into an unremarkable overgrown park, long abandoned to the decades.
Prompts
As you wander around, you discover deactivated androids in many of the poolside huts. These androids cannot be mistaken for any organic species: their chassis is metal, and their heads are shiny. Circuits and wires are visible. But each is dressed distinctly human in a way that borders on disturbing. You spot lipstick drawn on some of the metal faces, as though they're playing dress up...or as if they don't realize they aren't human. One android is frozen in place with a diary clutched in its hands. Another has a hairbrush for its nonexistent hair.
Something seems to have destroyed them—perhaps a powerful EMP wave that knocked them all out. All except one.
The Bartender
The poolside bar is at the eastern end of the resort. There are plenty of seats. A few are occupied by deactivated androids. The bartender is also an android and appears to be the only functional one in this place. He speaks with a modulated voice and has a neutral accent. He exhibits the following behaviors if you sit at his bar:
- Icebreaker. Whether you're alone or with a companion, he'll try to get you all to be friends, asking random self-generated icebreaker questions. He'll be visibly disappointed if you don't play along.
- Bartending. While cheerful, he can't make the correct drink: it's always too strong, incredibly weak, added salt instead of sugar, messed up the ice. He's obviously doing his best, but it's just not working. The harder he tries, the worse he performs until it becomes a comedy of errors with stuff falling over, ice dumped in your lap, champagne corks flying, and any number of slapstick mishaps. You can help him out by mixing the drink yourself.
If you're nice to him, he'll introduce himself as Thomas Lustras. He's happy to
tell you about his son. Strange, you think, but who says androids can't have paternal instincts? Yet, when the android takes out his wallet to show you a photo of his son—named Edward Lustras—the picture is that of a
human child, roughly 5 years old, in the arms of his
human father.
The driver's license in the same wallet confirms that Thomas is (was?) a real person. The picture on the license matches the human male in the photo. A half-scorched business card states that Thomas was a consultant at Outer Rim Resettlements. Thomas believes he's on a company retreat and wistfully declares he's eager to return home to his son.
Maybe don't look too closely. After all, this place will soon disappear. And so will he.
The Grill
It's not a vacation without a grill! Not a grillable item is in sight, though, so you'll have to rely on what you can bring out of Panorama. Some of the visiting drifters will pitch in to share, unloading hotdogs (some synthetic, others authentic, and some far past expiry), burger patties (same) and buns, and "kebabs" made of blocky frozen vegetable squares. The squares vaguely resemble corn, mushrooms, and pineapple. The texture is passable, like a flavor-infused block of tofu.
Fire up the grill and take turns grilling. You'll also have to manage the propane. The grill's also prone to sputtering out, requiring regular minor repairs to get it back up and going. Any loose bolts or screws can be taken out of the dead androids to replace the rusty ones in the grill. You're unsure if you should feel uncomfortable doing that or what, but it is a solution.
Parking Woes
Like any crowded event, the parking lot can get chaotic, and the lawlessness of the diffusion zones doesn't help. While some are happy to help barbecue, others are more interested in picking fights over who got to the parking space first. It won't take much for a fistfight to break out, and a knife fight isn't out of the question, either, though nobody'll be killed (this time).
You can let the troublemakers beat each other, or you can try to intervene if somebody who doesn't deserve it is getting harassed. Just avoid causing too much of a scene. Breaking noses is acceptable; gutting someone head to toe is not. There are Enforcers visiting the zone, and if you interfere with their nice pool time, they won't hesitate to haul away everybody involved and make you sit in jail for a few days.
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thediadem) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
diademlogs2025-06-08 10:11 am
no subject
Alpaca meat? [ Stephen replies, with a few blinks. ] Like – the cute fuzzy white guys, those alpacas?
[ He shakes his head, twists his mouth as he considers the rest of the description. ] With pineapple... sounds like something you'd get at a tapas bar. [ He frowns, waves his hand and apparates a plate on the table – two corn tortillas filled with slices of medium-rare meat, marinated in citrus and garlic, garnished with chopped raw onions, diced pineapple, and a pinch of cilantro – plus whatever other details the threads of his dimensional magic may have caught where his manual culinary skill is sorely lacking. ]
Swapped alpaca for beef, but hey, lemme know what you think. [ He jerks his thumb at the robot bartender, halfway through pouring a mound of salt in a margarita. ] Should at at least be better than whatever he'd come up with.
no subject
From what he hears, there is a cafe at the end of the universe...so why not?
Then again, describing your food as "cute fuzzy guys" generally makes them appear less than appetizing. G'raha gives a small half-shrug. ]
They are endemic to the area and act as beasts of burden as well?
[ He wishes he could say they weren't tasty but, gods, they were. Would he eat them again no matter how cute they are? Yes. Will he look one in the face while he does? No, not at all.
Before G'raha can ask about what a 'tapas bar' is, the other man brings up a much more prominent question in mind. Red eyes go wide and his ears stand straight up as food appears seemingly out of the very aether of the air around them, looking just as fresh and delicious as he might have imagined. ]
Twelve!
[ There's a moment of hesitation prompted simply but awe before G'raha picks up one of the tortillas. They feel real and warm. ]
You are capable of creation magics?
no subject
We call it conjuration – drawing on energy from other dimensions to create something in this one. [ Theoretical "we," past-tense "we" – but it's an omission he'll stick with for now. He tilts his head, figures it doesn't hurt to share a few details about the bare basics of his sorcery if it means this man, wreathed in wisps of magical energy of his own, might return the favor. ] Pretty common among sorcerers where I come from – at least at the small scale. [ Sorcerers unlike him, who've only trained in magic authorized by the Order, who haven't strayed outside their guidance. Who haven't bathed in the red matter of the Dark Dimension, who haven't siphoned it into the shapes of monsters, who haven't drank of their mystic power and opened their dozen eyes, who haven't sacrificed their body and soul to shatter the flow of space and time. ]
Anyway. [ Stephen motions at the taco plate. ] Help yourself.
[ If G'raha chooses to take a bite, he'll find the meat perfectly cooked, the tortilla fresh, the garnishes impeccably seasoned. Delicious – almost overwhelming in its punch of flavor, in the way it sits on the tongue, in the way it draws the diner in for another helping, for more.
There's nothing wrong with the food. Literally – nothing. A perfection so innate and effortless that it might breed suspicion, or more immediately, horror.
The fear of what could conjure something so immaculate out of thin air. The fear that one has reached a zenith, and may never consume a taco so good ever again. ]
no subject
And it's common?
Oh, he wishes more of his friends were here. Y'shtola would pin this man with her stare alone and Urianger would doubtlessly overwhelming him with overly constructed, but well-intended questions. Krile, likewise, would be beyond herself on what this could mean for the interactions with the Source. What they could learn!
So...that really leaves it up to him to absorb all that he can, doesn't it? A welcome task. ]
Forgive me my ignorance, but I'm struggling to imagine how something so grand could be...well, common.
[ But there's nothing but pure admiration in his voice. It's COOL, okay?
As is this treat. He holds it up, appreciating every small detail and nuance of it's feel and appearance before taking a bite.
And oh, oh even that very first bite sends him to the realm of the gods! G'raha closes his eyes, humming a happy affirmative as he chews slowly, making sure to take his time and take in every shift in flavors. When he opens them again, his eyes almost appear glassy as they look back down at the taco. ]
This...this is...incredible!