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
i. theft time
Frustration rises again in his hundred hearts, the same way it has over the last couple... weeks? Months? Minutes, for all he knows – too much and too little time all at once. At least the days leading up to the battle with Ultron were focused on a singular goal, with all the resources available to him that he'd cultivated over centuries – but here? He's stymied. Unmoored.
For the hundredth time since he's gotten here, he extends tendrils of his awareness into the space around him, and for the hundredth time since he's gotten here, he recoils from the overwhelming, repellant taste – molecules charged with something dark and viscous, something that finds him unwelcome. Dangerous. He knows the more he prods it, the more of a threat it'll perceive, which is why he's tried to keep his powers tamped down, despite the strain of it. The pure uncomfortable building pressure of being small.
He pauses. There's something else in the air too. Not just the unusual shape of atoms in any typical Diffusion Zone he's crossed through, but something – different. Something at once exactly like the multiversal refugees that cross his path day-to-day, but... larger, somehow. Denser.
It's coming from the cabin nearby.
A chill pricks the back of Stephen's back, tiny porcupine quills that stand on end from pale pores of skin. Writhing limbs emerge from the sides of his torso and populate the darkness around him, as do ragged wings from his back, glowing eyes that multiply across his cheeks and shoulders. Massive horns crown his head as his silhouette crosses the threshold into the room, a thousand gleaming teeth–
To see a white-haired man, about the size of an NBA player. Holding a... Hawaiian shirt? ]
I'm fine, thanks, [ Stephen says, perfectly dry as he emerges into the light of the room – seamless, just a man in a cape, like the monster was never there. He narrows his eyes, incredulous, verging on annoyed. ] Do you have... an urgent audition for a Jimmy Buffet cover band?
no subject
The man that nigh on slithers into the room is not that, but he is certainly.
Well, he’s something, all right.
He may wear the shape of a man, but much like Emet-Selch himself, he isn’t one – at least not any longer. His aether is a mess, his soul somehow worse, and he can but catch small glimpses, slivers of what once started as human and now become distinctly other. Overcrowded, writhing. Awful.
That golden gaze lingers for only a second, then moves back to the shirt, deeply uninterested. He is not here to go poking around in people’s problems, and he is not going to touch this mess with a forty-fulm pole. ]
I’m certain that’s a very well-crafted joke, if I knew what you were talking about.
[ Dry. ]
Lest you wonder, I am more interested in the practicality of a change of clothes than the fashion.
no subject
But he's never seen anything like this. The same basic patterns as a human – the same as a fluxdrift, even – but... different. Denser. More massive, by powers of tens.
Which just makes the mundanity of the scene that much... weirder? Surreal? He frowns as the man – or whatever he is – proceeds with what appears to be a petty crime. Not that there's really such thing out in the diffusion zones, but– ]
You can't just conjure some? [ He asks, equally deadpan. ] From that limitless well of cosmic magic or whatever it is you're made of?
[ Cutting through the fat. He never liked small talk, anyway. ]
no subject
If he’s at all surprised that he’s apparently been perceived on a level that usually comes with some sort of soul sight, Emet-Selch only shows it in the way his eyes tick back up to look at this man, one pale eyebrow arching just slightly.
He doesn’t pull punches, even having some idea of the power of the man he’s looking at, Emet-Selch will give him that much. ]
Can you? From that unfathomable mass of abject horrors making a mess of your soul, perhaps?
[ Fight him. (Don’t fight him.) ]
no subject
Stephen's eyes narrow at the slight – or warning shot, in truth. A growl, reverberating through the charged molecules and cosmic dust between them. I see you too. ]
I dressed for investigating, not bar-hopping, [ he replies, as he circles the other side of the bed – a flimsy barrier between them, but one he's wary to breach nonetheless. ] Figured if I can get a general sense of the trace matter in different diffusion zones, maybe I can pick out the similarities – and why they all ended up here.
[ He fixes his eyes on the tall man. Raises a brow. ]
How we ended up here.
[ There's an implication there. Not we, the fluxdrifts. We, those who shouldn't be caged. ]
no subject
That luminous, golden gaze tracks the movements of the other man, expression unchanged, as he moves around the bed. A bit of respectful distance, he notes. So, he’s nosy and sharp-tongued, but not wholly a fool.
“We,” he says, like they’re of the same breed. They most certainly are not, though if this prison can cage even Emet-Selch, there is not much else it cannot hold. ]
And you are?