MINGLE ∞ LOG — June 2025

[thediadem]

Mingle ∞ Log

No Lifeguard on Duty

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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.

∞ Links ∞

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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Comments

[positivelyroomy]

It’s like he’s back in his first year in the archives all over again. Knowing how John had been then and knowing who he is now should have struck that bleeding heart of Martin’s. But he’s tipsy, and a bit of a bitch. And Strange likes to hear the sound of his own voice. The little hurrumph says it all, plain as day.

His brows furrow a bit as he sips his drink through a day-glo orange straw, and if Strange can see past the tint of Martin’s sunglasses, he’ll note the man squinting (more and more). “Some of us are doing fine. That someone wouldn’t take offense,” he points out, tone brightly matter-of-fact. “But you have. How weird.”

Attention is temporarily diverted from being a bitch to thanking Thomas for his final drink of the evening. Though it is the same order, it will not be the same experience. Damn, Thomas. Get it together.

“I– I mean, yes, but these are just your basic ice-breaker questions. What would you ask? Go on.”

[kingsroads]

"One's name, to start with," Strange muses. Blissfully unaware of that squint and unconcerned of that judgement, Strange continues to bitch right back. "Or one's place of origin! Obviously you are English, I don't need to ask that question to you, but I've mentioned concepts that I thought everyone should know, only to be met with confusion. It is ridiculous that no one here knows of John Uskglass—"

Wait a moment. Martin is English. All of the Englishmen he's talked to here have not known who John Uskglass is. Ergo, there is a very high chance Martin also has no idea who Strange is talking about.

Strange gives Martin a look of slight affront, like it's Martin's own fault he won't recognize the name, before grumbling, "...and you probably do not know of Uskglass either. Urgh! Why do I bother?"

He grumpily slams back some of that appletini like he's taking a shot.

[positivelyroomy]

Martin is English, and while he’d lived in London, there’s still a hint of the north in his accent that is as stubborn to leave as Strange is to believe that he isn’t a household name here. The ego! John, as he’d tossed out like a calling card, sounds like he’s stepped out of a Jane Austen novel. A protagonist before his harrowing fall to humility.

He shifts, getting a proper look at Strange. Interesting. “First thing: you sound like you’re from the 1800s. There’s roughly two hundred years in between the England you come from and mine,” he raises a finger to denote that this is only the first of several points. A second finger shoots up. “Secondly, your world is just a world. I don’t think that anyone besides John,” he pauses to wrinkle his nose and note, “my John – ugh, anyway. What was I saying? Oh. I was saying that I doubt anyone else made it here from where I’m from. I doubt that we share the same England, time gap or not.”

It feels weird to use Annabelle’s explanation of a multiverse in a situation such as this, but from what Martin has gathered they very much do reside in an amalgamation of lost souls from an equally broad number of horizons.

“Even if I knew a John Uskglass, I’d hardly give you the satisfaction of acknowledging it, anyway. Not with that attitude.”

Withering. That is the vibe of the askew glance John gets as he returns to press his elbows to the bartop and finish his drink and draw up his final one. This is a contest of will.

“For that matter, if all you care about is people recognizing you, do you really want to get to know someone or just brag? Name’s Martin, by the way. I already know that you don’t know me,” he smiles, but in that churlish sort of way tied to gently veiled contempt. He kept 7 billion people from being marched to their doom and expects no acclaim, John Uskglass. He takes a rather heavy draw of his own questionable concoction and immediately grips the table with one hand to stop the visceral reaction to how strong it is. A faint flush ghosts his cheeks and he coughs. And goes back for more. They’re going to be such fast friends.

"Why don't you tell me why I should know you?" John can appreciate that he sounds a bit strained from swallowing what is effectively paint thinner with a cherry on top.

[kingsroads]

"I care about people recognizing Uskglass, not me," Strange points out. Which honestly, is a bit of a lie. There's a not-so-small part of him that desperately wants to be seen, to be acknowledged, to be complimented and talked about and to have his accomplishments recognized. But there's something a little shallow about so desperately wanting that attention and Strange is savvy enough to realize that admitting something like that out loud is a bad look.

"My name is Jonathan Strange. John Uskglass brought magic to England and ruled over the North for over three hundred years."

You know. A totally normal sentence to say. There's a pause before,

"That being said, if you were from my particular future, which you obviously aren't, I would hope that Lord Wellington is taught as part of a proper education. While my name wouldn't headline a chapter on the peninsular campaign, I at least would be a sentence or two."