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.
no subject
Hey. Listen.
[ His voice is quieter now, edged with something more real than he's used to showing; not soft, but stripped back. Just him. ]
You don't gotta be good enough, alright? You just gotta be. Ain't about bein' perfect. Or some symbol. Or whatever other heavy-ass shit people try to throw on your back. You showed up. That's more than most people ever do. For me, anyways.
[ A shrug. Nonchalant, like maybe it didn't cost him something to say that. Like his throat didn't just tighten a little over the fact that Jack's already had his back more than anybody did back home, even people he'd known since elementary school. He wipes his hand off on a napkin, then taps the edge of the plate with his finger, more out of habit than anything else. The motion keeps his hands busy. Keeps the nerves from getting loud. ]
Barbecue, though. Kansas City folk take that shit serious. Like, religious serious. Where I'm from, out in New Mexico, it's all about red or green. Chili, I mean. Not like, hot dog chili. Actual chili, like made from chile peppers. Sauce on damn near everything. Breakfast burritos, burgers, pizza, I even seen it on spaghetti once. Shit's sacred.
[ His tone is light, but there's a thread of fondness under it. A kind of homesick warmth. He hasn't talked much about home since he got here. Too many burned bridges between him and Albuquerque. But Jack pulls it out of him without trying, like gravity working in reverse, like instead of weighing him down, it lifts something. He glances up, smirking now, trying to flick the switch from vulnerable to teasing, like someone ducking under a wave at the last second. He doesn't want to get too sentimental--doesn't know how to be that and not crack open--but for a second there, he let it show. And maybe that's enough. Maybe that's what trust looks like. He reaches out absently and flicks at the side of the tofu with the tongs again, mostly to give his hand something to do. It collapses like a soggy sponge, and he wrinkles his nose. ]
Okay, that's not food. That's a fuckin' war crime.
no subject
My mother, before she died she left me a message. She couldn't survive my birth. [ So Jack killed her. He hates himself for that. ] She said that I shouldn't let anyone tell me who I'm supposed to be. She said I could choose. And I wanted to believe that, but I'm not always sure. I choose good every day. [ He is on the fence. It's too much to trust in individuality. ]
I would show up. You are struggling with the same things I am, I can see it in you. I thought maybe we could be friends, if you didn't mind how different I am. But I do want you to know that I'm dangerous, so you can make an educated decision. You should know that my biological father is Lucifer, the Devil. I'm not like him but ... I know that might mean something to people who believe in Heaven and Hell.
[ It's a huge point of pain for Jack. It's haunted him since the moment he was born and told that his father was pure evil, and that he could be like him. He was only a day or two old when this was explained to him, and Jack decided then that he could prove himself not to be. It's been his cause since then, to not be Lucifer, to be the opposite of Lucifer. Still, he knows that some people think nature versus nurture is more important.
He doesn't want to fool Jesse into thinking he is naturally good, so he knows that this isn't just an average angel. Most people do trust angels (they shouldn't), so his identity matters. He clutches the plate to himself and looks down at his food instead of at Jesse. Jack doesn't want the full weight of his sad eyes and hopeful gaze make him feel one way or another, when the facts are what they are. ]
I would rather talk about chili and barbecue, but if you decide all of this is too much, I want to give you the opportunity to leave.