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The Diadem ([personal profile] thediadem) wrote in [community profile] diademlogs2025-06-08 10:11 am
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MINGLE ∞ LOG — June 2025

Mingle ∞ Log
No Lifeguard on Duty
©
Jump ⇅ :: IntroPromptsNPC 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 ∞
TravelMapSetting
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
wwrench: <lj user=wwrench> (pic#13413984)

[personal profile] wwrench 2025-06-09 06:31 pm (UTC)(link)
( It's a new lease on life for them all, isn't it? Wrench still hasn't worked out in his mind exactly what happened in the bowling alley. How in one moment, he was running into the woods to escape an ambush from unknown assailants and avoid capture by the US Marshals, and in the next moment, was sharing a whiskey with an immortal entity.

"You're on a better path now," the being had insisted. Then Wrench had been stumbling out the back doors of the bowling alley with no further explanation. Is this the better path? Was he saved for some divine purpose? He can't be sure, but Wrench supposes if it's true, he ought to make his best effort at acting like it.

He pours three fingers of amber liquid into the glass and passes it back to the woman. Wrench tops off his own share of the stuff and tips the rim at his companion in a silent toast before bringing it back to his lips. A set of napkins and a pen lays across the bartop, and Wrench half-stands to snatch them up. and starts scribbling. In no time at all, he's drawn himself a little hangman's gallows and a series of dashes beneath: )


_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

( He turns the page toward his company and gives it a demonstrative tap with the tip of the pen. )
pse: (pic#17652790)

[personal profile] pse 2025-06-10 02:38 am (UTC)(link)
[ The drink is somehow even worse than she expected. She lifts the glass to her lips and throws the entire finger back decisively. It's the driest liquid she's ever had the displeasure of downing; the taste burns aggressively down her throat and fills her chest with friction. Her jaw juts out for a second and it seems she's at risk of spitting it back up — but one purposeful swat to her sternum does the trick.

No, she's not good at drinking. Sharing a joint with Annie and Serge had been easier.

Yes, that was embarrassing. Moving on.

A game of hangman is the perfect way to do it. Smiling brightly, Kimiko bobs her head agreeably before ducking to peer closer at the napkin. She counts the number of available letters once, twice, three times. He didn't provide a category, so she tries to think of things they have in common since arriving outside Panorama. Vehicles. Rent payments. Diffusion zones.

After a few seconds of thought, she throws to a vowel. The Wheel of Fortune thing, yeah? The most common letter in the English language is e, which she writes down on her own napkin and flips to show him. Guess number one. ]
wwrench: <lj user=roximonoxide> (pic#13397462)

[personal profile] wwrench 2025-06-10 02:51 am (UTC)(link)
( As far as Wrench is concerned, the bottle of bourbon is heretofore untampered-with, which makes the liquid inside a far cry better than anything their robotic bartender is slinging. It's not the risk of the machine substituting salt for sugar or topping an old fashioned with pickle juice rather than bitters that has him wary; Wrench is concerned with something far more insidious. By now it's a well-established fact that the bill for all this will come due sooner or later, but that doesn't mean the hefty price tag is the worst of it.

There's nothing saying the drinks are safe, and he'd rather not risk finding himself roofied in this strange place.

He glances at the woman's commandeered scrap and can't help the smirk that forms over his own lips. It doesn't bloom completely, but rather drags his mouth into an even thinner line. Wrench twists his own napkin to face more toward himself and pens a large, upside-down L — the hangman's post. He twists the page back toward the woman and gives another tap at the row of dashes along the bottom.

Try again. )


_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
pse: (pic#17652781)

[personal profile] pse 2025-06-12 06:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Well, as her poorly chosen e hammers the nails into the foundation of what could be her noose, she frowns curiously at the row of dashes again. She's taking this game very seriously, including counting the number of empty spots — eyelashes flickering in lieu of her lips moving with the count.

Thirteen. There are thirteen letters.

Yeah, that is no help to her at all. Her English is quite good, considering everything, but not good enough to start thinking of thirteen-letter words off the top of her head.

Finally, she continues the Wheel of Fortune method. She scribbles down the letter r hopefully. ]
Edited 2025-06-12 18:55 (UTC)
wwrench: <lj user=proverbially> (pic#13703929)

[personal profile] wwrench 2025-06-13 03:16 am (UTC)(link)
( At present, Wrench isn't consciously contemplating all the possible channels of reality this game might be passing through. Whether or not the woman speaks — or has even heard of — English couldn't be further from his mind. Right now they're playing a game, and however it's managing to work, it is working.

Maybe he allows that fact to embolden him a little. Because with the next word the woman scribbles on the page, an idea blooms. R. It's there, thank goodness. But before he pens it in its rightful place just above one of the dashes, Wrench crosses his index finger over his middle. It looks like he's making a wish or holding out for some stroke of good luck. But he nods to the page and then to his crossed fingers again. This is that. The two are one and the same. )


_ _ _ _ _ R _ _ _ _ _ _ _

( He adds the letter with a knowing simper before setting down the pen and signing with the quick confidence of a man who either knows she'll understand him, or doesn't care whether she does or doesn't. )

I see what you're doing. I'll save you time: there's no 'L.'
pse: (pic#17652790)

[personal profile] pse 2025-06-13 05:27 am (UTC)(link)
[ The success of her r prompts a tiny, triumphant fist pump. One letter down, twelve to go!

What he's doing clicks quickly. She had taught Serge her pidgin in much the same way, although she hadn't given much thought why the man across from her hadn't said a word — simply marinated peacefully in the quiet, in the lack of expectation that she would need to overextend just to get her point across. Now, with a bright smile, she mimics his gesture.

That smile doesn't go away when she reads his message. There's a slight laugh, more of a breath than anything, and her head bobs in acknowledgment.

A few more seconds considering the puzzle in front of her, and—

Eh, fuck it. She goes for something unlikely. X. ]