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MINGLE ∞ LOG — June 2025

Mingle ∞ Log

No Lifeguard on Duty

Jump ⇅ :: Intro — Prompts — NPC Interaction

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.

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Travel — Map — Setting

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.

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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.

Questions? Ask here

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Knave is ever a hound for information. There's only so much she can glean from the inner mechanisms of the deactivated androids or the ramblings of the bartender, but written intel... well, it's looking like that may be the only sane resource left to find here.

A stately tapping of heels will give Charles ample warning of The Knave's approach before she appears at his side, fully suited in blatant disregard of the casual resort setting. Pardon if she's interrupting his reading.

"Would those materials happen to be available for the perusal of others?" she asks smoothly, perhaps needlessly formal. But she does try to mind her manners while company remains amicable.

Charles hears the heels and doesn't assume they're coming to him until she nears and his eyebrows raise, turning his head to glance up at her. She doesn't quite fit the resort look, although in a way she does, as high-powered professional sorts would be at a place this rich. So the suit and heels could go along with it just as much as his colorful shirt and khakis. Charles himself likes suits, he often dresses up so he can present himself well in public, but he's mostly given up on that here.

This might give him the idea to go back to the cabins and see if he can find anything a little more formal while he's there. He has no problem scavenging for clothes, he likes to have a collection, and since he's poor now he has no way of doing so.

"If you'd like, although they're not all riveting." Charles picks up one and offers it over to her. The writer had elegant handwriting and it's in a very nice leatherbound journal. "This one does talk about an illicit affair. I got it from the android with the very bright lipstick." So it somewhat fits the visual of her. He respects that.

She takes the journal with a blackened hand and invites herself to a nearby seat with a sweep of her coattails and an elegant crossing of her legs. If she's going to read the whole thing, she may as well make herself comfortable.

"I suppose there's something to be said for the drama inherent in common, everyday betrayals. The theatrics of a stage, grand as they may be, will always follow a formula and demand a tidy resolution. But in real life, there are no such guarantees; the smallest treachery may lead to the most catastrophic or inconsequential of endings, if we're given the opportunity to know it at all."

Having waxed poetic at length (completely unprompted), The Knave finally turns the journal in her hands. There should be no reason for a machine to indulge in such a luxurious notebook. As Thomas's entire state of being would suggest, the robots all seem to have human-like minds and inclinations. Both impressive and concerning.

"Well said. There really is no way of knowing what small pebbles might cause the largest ripples. Although I doubt an affair led to whatever ended the androids and this place of theirs." It's a graveyard in a way, a very nice one. The cabins have clothes and items that were used by people before, for them to scavenge freely now. The alcohol here hasn't gone bad but the food is all from the city, so nothing has gone rotten yet.

He is a curious person, enough that he decided to investigate the journals, and a part of him is definitely interested in answers about what happened to these people. Androids who were human or possibly they were always just themselves, and simply their own species outside of what they perceive as androids. Hard to say. Charles has seen enough strange people these days to assume nothing about what people can be.

"I wonder about these snapshots of different worlds these storms apparently represent. Not every one of them is like this, you can have that strange drowning building from a few weeks ago if you saw that, but it's interesting."

"I must profess to being a novice when it comes to these diffusion zones, but ruin seems to be a common theme. At the very least, I've yet to hear of any manifestations of green pastures or joyous celebrations."

As nice as it would've been to come across a true tropical resort with a full offering of services. All offense to Thomas.

"Perhaps it's all the work of some cosmic evil," she says dryly with a vague wave of her hand. "An insidious force that consumes consciousnesses and lays the waste at our feet."

"This one isn't terribly bad ... for us. For the androids, well." So it still has a bit of the macabre by being an android graveyard. It just also happens to come with a well-stocked bar, pool, and comfortable cabins to indulge in. Charles has been indulging for days and he is content with this particular storm, albeit with the understanding this is no doubt a rare occurrence.

"It could be." Charles shrugs a shoulder. "I'm not certain I'm up for the task of defeating a cosmic evil being, but I'll do my best, if the situation calls for it." He himself doesn't look like much of a threat, and if there isn't a mind to control, he truly isn't. But he does have a team of superpowered people on his side with more useful skills to speak of.

"It's possible none of this means anything too. It may be we'll never find the meaning in it." He likes talking philosophy.

"Meaning, is it?"

She isn't one for sentiment (or at least, she tells herself so), but debate as an exercise isn't a bad way to pass the time. She gestures at the androids all around them, an elegant wave of her hand.

"Children can find meaning in rocks they've chosen to adopt. It seems even machines can find meaning in constructing a pool they can't swim in. It's quite likely that even if there is a meaning behind these diffusion zones, we'll find it profoundly disappointing."

"That all depends on if you have level of expectations with the meaning around you. I can find meaning in sitting here having a conversation with you, so if there is not much more to this place, or this life, than that, it's just as well." Charles likes conversation and banter and debate as well. He is a terribly sentimental person in comparison, he finds sentiment and meaning in everything that he does. It's pretty necessary for a teacher, he thinks, given that his students need a level of attention and support that requires guidance and hope.

"But I doubt my hope for a return to where I came from is going to be easy to find. There are people who have spent their entire lives here." It is a dismal thought for him but one that he's accepted too. Charles can't spend that life sitting around being miserable about it.

"There is merit in finding meaning in small things, but there is a point at which comfort becomes a sedative. If there is to be meaning in our conversation, I hope it will be the reminder that a struggle is imperative to any worthy venture."

She has always lived with growth on her mind, her goals set clear before her. She understands that not all have the same "benefit." And sometimes, a rearrangement of perspective goes a long way.

"I gather that you have a home worth struggling for, at any rate?"

"Yes, my home is far from perfect, but it is important that I return if possible. I don't know if that means I can do anything about it, but if there is something, I will." Charles is not particularly helpful if it includes physical efforts to accomplish the goal, but he has a sharp mind and his power exudes from it. Charles has a future that he would like to get back to, along with his students that are here, outside of perhaps Rogue, who he thinks is better suited to stay here.

He and the X-Men have work to do and lives to change. The imperfection comes from the outside world, and there is some relief that this place is not the same. "That being said, there are elements of being here that afford personal value. My estranged sister is here with me." Raven is unlikely to return home any time soon in his time, perhaps never at all, and he doesn't want to see her future come to be.

"And you?"

"It would seem we have similar views on the matter. Though rather than family, I have here a... compatriot of sorts."

Wriothesley isn't family, and only a fellow countryman by generous definition. In fact, they only knew each other by reputation before all this, like faceless opponents across a chessboard. But she supposes he "affords personal value" to some degree.

"In any case, I have obligations that need attending to at home. A number of children, for one thing."

"Coincidentally, so do I." Charles can see parallels in them already, the sort of intellectual theorizing could easily fit any kind of natural teacher. So he must have stumbled upon another one.

"I'm a teacher, I run a school back home. Professor Charles Xavier." He realizes he hasn't officially introduced himself and now seems like the natural time. He offers his hand if she would like to shake it, but won't be offended if it isn't her custom. It would be nice to share that with someone else.

"The majority of my students are teenagers and older, so not quite children."

Ah. She blinks at the coincidence. Though she herself works with children, she doesn't trust all those who profess to do the same. This fellow does leave more of a positive impression than not, however.

She accepts the handshake. Her blackened hand is patterned with still deeper blacks and grays that could pass for tattoos. Her nails are long and sharp, but she's careful to do no more than tap the back of Charles's hand with them as she squeezes with well-mannered pressure.

"I am The Knave," she says simply. "I happen to manage an orphanage."

A gross oversimplification of many things, but that's for the best. She returns her hands to her lap, fingers curling lightly over the leather-bound journal.

"As you can imagine, those children come to me at all ages." She sighs lightly, looking out over the pool. "If there's one thing I can say for Panorama, it's that there seem to be very few children in need of my services."

"Would you like me to say The Knave every time I address you, or would Knave be acceptable?" It's a polite question but one that Charles takes seriously. He wants to make certain he addresses her correctly to her comfort level. It might seem more of a title to him than a name, but that's just from his world's point of view. He's well aware they are somewhere else entirely.

"My school is for people who develop supernatural abilities, which only happens at puberty." So the age bracket is for a very specific reason. Charles would ordinarily never speak so freely about his school or his students, but this is not a world that seems afraid of powered people, or would shy away from mutants. He feels almost like the strange is normal here.

"The lack of a generic education program in this city, or the children there to learn it, is horrifying to me personally, but that's how I am." He loves education. There is no formal education here.

She could laugh at his mannered question. With a title like "The Knave," the name itself is already more rude than any verbal seasoning that could pepper it. Her answer is just as polite as the question, however. "Others commonly address me as simply 'Knave.' That will suffice." It's all the same to her, truly.

Her gaze on Charles becomes more focused when he speaks of his school. "My. Puberty is quite the contentious time already. To deal with unbidden powers on top of it — you must have your hands ceaselessly full." There's an analytical calm to her tone. Rather than marvel at how chaotic such a school must be, she's interested in hearing about the nitty-gritty of his management style...

"A pleasure to meet you, Knave." It does seem like an odd name to go by, at least by someone who knows a certain definition of the word, but for all he knows it means nothing in her world. It could just be a name like anything else.

He smiles easily and chuckles. "You could say that." He did deal with many adults but the youths struggled, he did his best for them. And he always felt like it meant a great deal once he did manage to overcome their frustrations and hormones, to get to the heart of things. "But it helps that they were surrounded by people going through the exact same thing. Our kind is still relatively secret, so there is a great deal of fear and shame that comes with the discovery." Charles went through it himself when he first discovered his abilities. He was so young and having his mind filled with all those voices was a lot.

"But together we overcome it. And once they get better control over it, their gifts become a joy."

The Knave looks at him in brief silence before saying simply, "That does sound nice." A vapid comment on its surface, but there's a momentary softness to her voice as she glances away. When she speaks again, her voice is firm once more.

"My children are much the same way. They have no special powers, but their bonds with each other have seen them through many storms. They each have their own interests and talents with which to enrich the House -- and while some might seem quite strange to outsiders, the children take great pride in their contributions."

She shakes her head. "Adults have much to learn from the cooperative nature of children," she says. As if she's some social butterfly herself...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

MINGLE ∞ LOG — June 2025

resort!

so sorry I lost some notifs!

no worries! shakes fist at dw

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