etrayalogs | MISSION 001

Entry tags:

MISSION 001

WHO: Everyone!
WHEN: March 29th-April 20th
WHERE: Everywhere on Etraya
WHAT: Mission 001!
NOTES\WARNINGS: Potential violence, death.

⏵ mission prep ⏴
On the morning of the 29th, characters will receive a notification from Aurora to come to the hospital’s ground floor to prepare for their first mission. On this floor, pairs will be given slips of paper with matching numbers. If characters have chosen their partners, they too will receive small slips of paper with matching numbers, as these numbers match the room assignment they will be asked to please step inside.

The rooms themselves are bare. There’s a cot, two chairs pushed up against a small table, a miniature fridge set up below a sink, and a television that only plays static. On the table is a note, which simply reads:

Welcome. To prepare you for your first mission, we are giving you time to get to know your partner. You have a twelve-hour time limit to discuss your lives together. We recommend talking about moments throughout your life that have defined the person you have become. In addition, we have included several ingredients inside the miniature refrigerator. You must, without telling your partner specifically what it is, create their favorite drink using the ingredients within and above the refrigerator.

Do not attempt to cheat. Do not make your own drink.

If you pass, you will both be given two points and the door will unlock. If you fail, you may try again with the same partner or a new partner may be reassigned to you.

Good luck.

Within the mini fridge will be numerous ingredients - these ingredients could be anything, from Bantha milk to dragon fruit - whatever their favorite drinks are, they will find all the correct ingredients to make them. There will also be numerous extra ingredients. Maybe a character’s favorite drink is a nice cup of peppermint tea. The kettle, and the tea bags, will be present on top of the mini fridge, but there may also be soda bottles inside the fridge and various milk substitutes. Cheating by making their own drink will result in the game being reset, and a new partner being assigned or no partner at all being assigned and they will simply be removed from this part of the exercise.

⏵ the secret's out⏴
Numerous notes can be found throughout Etraya’s populated areas - falling from the sky, taped to doors, slid under them, or perhaps being handed out by a few of the companion bots who will eagerly note how these are meant to help, but a quick read may show that they’re not things anyone wants to be given out so freely.

After all, on the notes are secrets, untold truths, things that were never meant to be shared nor wanted out in the open. Some of these aren’t notes at all, but small packages that are not addressed to anyone in particular, or addressed to the incorrect party. Inside the packages are items that may be associated with a particular event: a knife that had been used to betray a friend still stained with blood, a mask meant to conceal identity, a picture featuring a moment in time that had best been left forgotten.

The goal of the game becomes clear by the notes written on the back or thin slips within the packages: match the secret to the person. You could simply ignore them, but the note also includes an addendum: more notes will continue to be sent until the person is matched to their secret.

⏵ cracked reflection ⏴

Every person is an intricate mosaic, composed of numerous facets that shape what makes them - themselves.

After all, one person is not simply one picture, but rather, a puzzle comprised of myriad pieces. These pieces may shape their strengths, their sense of humor, the influences of their upbringing, and who they admired in their formative years. Together, these fragments coalesce into a singular form: you.

But what if those pieces were rearranged? What if the fundamental aspects that define who you are simply… didn’t exist? What if, rather than being a courageous hero, you were cast as a formidable villain? What if, instead of pursuing the path that led you to greatness, you veered in a different direction?

A new dawn breaks over Etraya. The artificial sun rises over the horizon, accompanied by the melodic chirping of birds. As the denizens of Etraya awaken, they sense... a shift in the air - a feeling of dissonance, as if a piece of themselves has suddenly gone missing. Because it has.

Doubles of every current inhabitant of Etraya roam the corridors of the apartment building and the surrounding facilities. They let themselves into Roxx to get a few new outfits, get themselves a meal at the hospital cafeteria, or maybe they’re raiding the snack shelves at Kwik Trip. They may bear a striking resemblance to their counterpart and act very similarly, but there is something off about them. A quality that sets them apart. Remember that step you took, that led you to your current career? The step you’ve kept secret for so long, that has defined your actions ever since? They didn’t take it. They went down a different path, something darker, or perhaps something lighter. They took the path you most feared, the one you knew would turn out terribly. And they in turn - turned out for the worst.

Characters will find they are facing one of their worst fears: themselves, but their worst selves. The version of them that they fought so hard not to become, that they strove against rather than towards. And the mission? They need to take out their worst selves.

But there’s a twist: interaction with their doubles isn’t possible. Both halves are cognizant of each other’s existence, yet they are incapable of verbally or physically interacting with each other. And while the double understands what they are, the original? Well… how do you truly know you are who you’re supposed to be? What if you were the double all along? What if you are your own worst self?

There is one way to be sure: the color of the copies’ blood is slightly darker than what it should be. Running closer to a red-black than the red you would anticipate. Or for some, perhaps their blood is red where it should be running black. While they feel and look real, driving a unique blade straight through where their heart would be will cause doubles to dissipate into nothing once the knife penetrates deep enough. As for the genuine articles, well, the blade is sharp—and it’s going to hurt.

A blade is provided for every authentic copy. Those who were sleeping through the night will find it beside them upon awakening. As for those who remain vigilant throughout the night, the blade will manifest beside them in the early hours of April 2nd.

Guess someone is going to have to kill your double.

⏵ quicksilver has no sense of tact ⏴

Aurora’s announcement left out several crucial details: the existence of the doubles, for one. But also the looming deadline to take care of the mess that has been dropped onto Etraya. Inside the characters’ wrists, they will discover a timer gradually counting down. The timers are only visible for the person who dons it, as is the amount of time given. Every person is given an individual time limit, but it cannot be longer than two weeks. As the numbers dwindle, more black marks appear going up the inside of their arms toward the inside of their elbow. And what are the black marks?

With each additional black mark, they begin to feel… less like themselves, and more like their doppelgangers. In the beginning, maybe they barely notice the change. Maybe it’s a favorite food they loved that they now hate, or perhaps it’s an event that has shifted: something small but important - a decision to save a life changed to taking one. Maybe they’ll feel like a piece of themselves is no longer the same, replaced with another feeling or sensation. Where something would have usually made them empathetic to another's blight, now they find their suffering funny. Regardless, the longer their doubles are around, the longer they slowly begin to become their doubles - and their doubles begin to become just like them.

If their doppelganger is not taken out at the end of their provided time, it will simply dissipate and the original will remain changed. The only way to return to normal is to kill the original. After death, the character will remain dead for twenty-four hours before returning to their normal selves as if the death had never occurred. While killing them to return them to normal is information Aurora will readily share, no one will inform them that they will simply return to normal by April 20th.

⏵ OOC ⏴
Welcome to the first mission! For any questions relating to this mission please reply below. All other questions can be directed to the FAQ.

Please note that while ICly, characters are not given a choice, players can choose which missions they wish for their characters to participate in. They may have missed receiving room assignments, or their secrets may not have been dropped, or a copy may not have shown up for them. This may not always be an option in future missions!

⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[So anyway, here's saintly Rufus Shinra, a man who has never done anything wrong in his life, minding his own business shooting pool in the rec room when out of nowhere some psychopath starts making Gun Noises™ in his immediate vicinity.

A lot of things happen in the span of an instant. The first is that Tseng isn't here — his Turks are out of position — this is a problem he's going to have to handle himself. The second is placing the location of the noise — far side of the room — no D to order, if it comes down to a gunfight he'll be without a barrier — pool table for cover, drop one of his smoke cartridges, obscure line of sight, roll clear, headshot. There's no maneuverability in a room this comparatively small. He'll either have to end it fast or move an extended fight somewhere else.

He's already got one of his coins palmed by the time he places the source of the sound, and when he does, a second wave of things all happen in the span of another instant:

One: it's some girl.
Two: if she's gearing up for Gun Violence™, she's doing a really bad job of it.
Three: that's his father's gun.

The fact that he hasn't seen it in some time doesn't mean he wouldn't still know it anywhere. Hard to miss, when like all property of the Shinra Corporation it's got their logo embossed on the grip, when it's as gold and ostentatious as the statue of the old man that presides over the Shinra museum. (He should really get rid of that thing.) And given the discarded package wrapping paper near the girl, it isn't difficult to put together just what might have happened to bring this result about.

That box is meant for him, more likely than not. Someone's brought him his father's gun. And this rando's got it in her grubby little hands.]

That's not a toy.

[He says, affecting calm when in fact he's anything but, keeping the pool table between himself and where she's sitting as he regards the spectacle she makes. He smiles, slight and diplomatic, and it doesn't reach his eyes.]

Or have I just found myself in a hostage situation?

( that whirlwind of emotion rufus is currently experiencing goes entirely unnoticed. the light catches off the golden barrel of gun in such a pretty way that it almost makes up for the ridiculousness of the whole thing, and more importantly she's listening to hear if a round slides into the chamber.

that's not a toy, calls a voice from across the room, which drags clarke away from her shameless examination of the gun in hand (how many bullets does the magazine hold? how well has it been maintained?) with a sharp frown. it's been a while since she's been met with such condescension from a stranger — is it condescension? feels a lot like it upon first blush, though that could just be a learned bias when butting heads with older men. regardless of whether she's pinned down the root emotion, the man on the other side of the pool table sure is looking at her with something unkind lingering behind that smile. it nudges at the already taught edges of her psyche; urges clarke on the preemptive defensive, which she then has to reign back and fold back into a semblance of composure.

she takes a moment to really, really look at him (what's that you've got in your hand, stranger?) before answering. politely. diplomacy for diplomacy, but no forced smile on this end. )

Don't worry, I don't think we've devolved to hostage situations around here yet. ( and if it's the gun in hand that's bothering him, she can fix that. very carefully lowers the gun into her lap, with all the reverence and safety training of someone who is very much aware it's no toy, thanks. ) I'm sorry if I startled you.

[Not for the first time, and assuredly not for the last, he has to wonder just what Aurora might be playing at with all this. Circulating secrets, demanding reflection on formative aspects of their lives — judging the fitness of the representatives she'd chosen from their various worlds? Provoking a reaction is one way of going about it, he supposes.

So, what is he going to do about this? She sets down the gun and it's clearly a pacifying move, or at the very least intended to be one. She has to know it's not hers, though, even if she isn't aware that it's his. Curious to see what she'll do with it. Preferably not start shooting.]

I come here expecting the only shooting will be with pool cues.

[He waves lightly at the table, gesturing with his fingers using the same hand holding the cue.]

Come play a game.

( oh. huh.

however the conversation was going to proceed from scolding, clarke hadn't banked on an invitation. being told to take that outside or at least put it back in the box would have been doable. if he'd wanted to come right out and try to claim the gun, her working theory that the time and placement around some of the package deliveries could have been expanded, even while begrudging the loss of a potential weapon.

but a game of pool? really? )

...I don't know how to play. Didn't manage to scratch that option off my bingo card.

Then come lose a game. It'll be educational.

[He's watching her, mostly for the sake of watching what she does and continues to do with the gun.]

I doubt you've anything better to be doing, or you'd already be doing it.

( he's got a point, but it is also greatly undermined by the point that — )

I think the next thing I'm supposed to do is walk around town trying to match this — ( she doesn't gesture the gun for emphasis, but it's greatly implied. actually what's already underway by this point in her sentence is clarke carefully collecting the box the gun had come in and putting it back to bed amidst the packing paper. ) — to whoever owned it. Which is another game I'm not super keen to play, but unlike pool, it doesn't exactly feel optional.

I see.

[He waits, watching the way she replaces the gun in its box, and once it's out of her grasp far enough that it'd take at least an extra few seconds to pick it back up and aim it again, pockets the coin he's been holding in his palm. Evidently they're going to be able to solve this a different way.]

Looking for someone who could tell you, for example, that the logo embossed on the grip is a diamond superimposed over a square with two characters within and a notch through the uppermost point. Or that the slide is engraved with a pattern of vines in whorl shapes. Or that about a half-inch above the trigger guard, below the slide, on the left side, are six standard letters: S-H-I-N-R-A. Easy to miss from a distance.

( ...oh. huh.

well, for a game she doesn't like playing all that much, at least it's proving to be easy. between the super convenient exchange of lost body parts between her and two black haired boys earlier, and the companion bot's timing just outside the door to the rec room, something in the back of clarke's brain is starting to scream that this supposed game is rigged. to what end? undecided, she'll try to fill in the gaps later. the alternative narrative is she's just exceedingly lucky. which can't be true, it's not in her nature, so it's obviously deus ex machina right? and there's little she likes less than feeling like a puppet with its strings being pulled.

for a solid second she just stands, mapping the details of the gun she'd just been holding with the description he recites. it is entirely too specific, and there he'd been, standing at a relative distance, so... doesn't take her long to do the math. with a short huff forced out through her nose, her shoulders drop about half an inch in the subtlest show of disappointment. )

...Mr. Shinra, I take it?

( it'd looked like a last name, at least. though the level of ego required to engrave one's name into a weapon meant to harm is beyond her. clarke is a very bitter and sore loser, but not an entirely unreasonable person — it'd have been one thing to refuse to play and secret the gun away for her own use; it's entirely different when confronted by the potential owner, preemptively caught red handed. so now she crosses over to the pool table, hovers around the ball pocket furthest from him, and... dawdles a little. doesn't quite succeed in putting the box down. )

You could have lead with that two minutes ago.

I could've.

[The remark is simple enough; the significance is more in what he doesn't say as he watches her make her way across the room. It's not a particularly far leap to guess that many people, when presented with a sudden and off-the-radar weapon in a place like this, might be tempted to allow it to "disappear" from notice, willing to take their chances against whatever consequences from Aurora that might ensue. The slight drop of her shoulders and the reluctance to relinquish the box more than speaks to that.

He doesn't press on it, though, because he doesn't need to. One could easily make excuses for failing to find the owner of one of these objects — putting in the most token efforts and claiming an inability to locate them thereafter, for example — but it's much harder to maneuver around when faced with the tall, silent specter of the destined recipient waiting to be handed back their due.]

My father took a lot of pride in that weapon. Call it a family heirloom.

[His father took more pride in the gun than he did in his son. It's not even that he cares about the memory, so much, as just — having it in his own control. Shinra is his. All of it, every piece of it, is his.]

( could have and should have, honestly. it could have spared them this incredibly (potentially one-sidedly) awkward moment where clarke just sort of hovers, drumming her fingers along the side of the box and wondering if she should apologize. because it sure does feel like she's been caught in the premeditation phase of a small scale crime, and where she'd originated from that came with a pretty automatic death sentence. just because it's been years since the ark doesn't mean that deeply instilled kneejerk reaction fades. )

Oh. I guess that explains the diamond.

( the only heirloom she'd come to inherit had been a beaten and broken 100 year old watch that hadn't even survived a month back on the ground, and was now lost in... who even knows, but it feels incredibly unlikely she'd ever get it back. it'd never been fancy, but was incredibly important to her. but rather than slipping into any sort of sentimentality here and now, she actually has to pause and double back because — )

...actually, it doesn't explain the diamond. What possible functionality could that serve?

[It's not that the question catches him off-guard so much as it just sharpens his curiosity. What possible functionality could that serve, she asks, because she's a person who didn't grow up in a world where that symbol was emblazoned across every television broadcast, on the sleeve of every soldier, stamped into boxes and barrels and equipment by the thousands. A person blissfully oblivious about the Shinra Electric Power Company and its influence — a thing no one on Gaia could possibly hope to claim, even in the most remote of areas. She sees that logo and tries to reason out what benefit it adds to the weapon, what use it contributes to the whole. It means that little to her.

Imagine. A world where the Shinra Corporation's logo holds no meaning. A life lived to maturity that somehow managed to remain in ignorance of it.

He shrugs a little.]

Why make it gold? There's a simple answer to both.

[The only answer that ever mattered to any question in the whole of Gaia.]

It was what he wanted.

( yeah, she's never heard of that company. but that's not necessarily because of any lacking reach of the shinra family, more so just that humanity as most people know it ended a century ago for her, long before her birth. sometimes it's admittedly hard to parse out if she and any normal person came from the same homeworlds to begin with, just snatched at different times; a lot could have existed on earth before the apocalypse, children born in later years were named for partially eroded interstate signs and destroyed monument plaques. and the only electric they had originated from dams and generators so old the logos had long since eroded.

just to add fuel to the fire, she also has no concept of money. other than a few instances of walking all over rotting dollar bills in repurposed bank vault turned surgery suite, it's just the stuff of textbooks. opulence factors in quite the same way, considering where she'd come from even the highest ranking members of the council wore 100 year old hand-me-downs, and most of the privileges they were afforded came in quantifiable things; regular and consistent oxygen rations, a satiating number of meal chits, etc.

on the one hand, clarke had been waiting for some sort of grand reveal. maybe diamonds really did make for greater guns, maybe the added jewelry was a ruse, and it was actually some sort of explosive failsafe cleverly disguised, maybe — oh, it's literally just decoration? ) Hm. ( disappointing. )

...No offense, but your dad had awful taste.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

MISSION 001

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