etrayalogs | Mission 015 Log

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Mission 015 Log

Mission Summary

Genre: Dystopian / Horror

Premise: Echo can no longer detect what's happening in Pollux, and sends Etrayans to investigate. In Pollux, cut off from contact with Aurora and unable to return until whatever's causing the interference is removed, the Etrayans find things have really gone to hell...

Tone: Intense, heavy, and serious.

Objectives: Determine what's happening in Pollux and install a new A.I. if necessary.

We have no need of other worlds

Arrival
The Etrayans arrive in an uninhabited apartment complex, layered with dust and echoingly empty. The layout is often odd in places in ways that might normally be humorous -- a toilet in the kitchen, one unit with five closets side-by-side off of a single main room -- but now take on an almost sinister, unnerving cast. Nothing seems to make sense in this building.

There's remnants of there being residents once in the more livable layouts, but even that has some strangeness to it: identical baskets of men's hygiene supplies left in every unit, inhabited or not; half-eaten meals abandoned in a hurry, rotting on dining tables; or robots that look much like Etraya's companion bots slumped over in place, crumpled on the floor like puppets with cut strings. There's some supplies to be found and scavenged, and it's empty enough that it's a safe place to start.

Exploring the City
Or they can head outside into the central green space of the city, an unsettling lumpy mound looming in the middle of it off in the distance. The park is bordered on all sides by gleaming metal buildings that tower overhead, all in similar states of disrepair from the one they'd just exited.

Pretty quickly, they'll accomplish one of their primary objectives: discovering what happened to Castor. There's a human man wandering the fringes of the park, scouting for disabled bots that he, under great duress, is trying to repair. The enforcers leave him alone -- they know who he is -- and he can be approached and spoken with.

Maybe he has some answers. Or maybe the other Polluxians left around the city do.

Either way, Castor has become a full, organic human through magical means, and it's obvious they're going to need to install that new A.I. after all. Before long, a base camp is established by the Etrayans in a nearby pod-style hotel, and the mission is underway in earnest.

Dead as Dead
Approaching the mound in the center of the park, characters will come to the creeping realization that it is a pile of corpses, some of them recognizable on inspection. The bodies have been dragged there and left on display as a taunt and a threat. They've been killed in a variety of ways, most of them gruesome but some subtle. In all cases, their souls have been pulled out and obliterated, leaving them completely incapable of resurrection or reanimation.

There's evidence here and there that some Polluxians might have approached to try to take some for proper burials, but the corpse pile is as much bait as it is anything else -- the enforcers and undead regularly stop by on their patrols to check if someone's lingering.

Opposition
Those roaming the city will encounter two types of opposition.

Enforcers are former Polluxians who have either willingly signed on to be part of the new regime or have been coerced into doing so to keep themselves or their loved ones from the fate on display in the park. They come in the full array of possible characters who can be recruited by Echo.

The undead that assist them as minions are not the shambling idiots common in media: they're bodies animated by some other force, the original soul pulled out but left intact, hovering beside the victim to those that can sense its presence.

All of them, to a one, smile widely, a fierce grin belying their joy at their tasks. Though they have no superhuman strengths, they also feel no pain, and if cut off at the knees they will pull themselves with fingertips across the floor to continue to seek their targets, thrilled all the while.

These dead, too, can be recognized as castmates -- or perhaps as another version of yourself -- but if you speak their name out loud to them, perhaps in shock or perhaps to plead, they slump lifeless to the ground, the thread to their soul cut. It soon becomes obvious that this is one source of the corpses in the pile. Laying them to true rest will take something more than talking or violence.

This is another lie

The Tower
The other source of corpses in the park is the magically hidden tower, and those that sneak in or are captured and brought inside will find that out. Characters can be forced into becoming either contestants or enforcers in a series of macabre games, and their role can switch round to round. Note: players are welcome to make up their own game scenarios. Those listed below are provided as starting points and ideas.

For contestants, they will experience complete power nerfing, but those that win make their way up one level in the tower, game by game. Maybe eventually they'll see what's at the top, if they ever make it that far. Those that lose can die, face mutilation, or some other consequence like reliving their worst memory in real-time.

For enforcers, keeping the contestants in line and running the games might earn them the goodwill of the person running the show. They can be as creative as they'd like with how to keep things running; by no means does death need to be the only possible penalty. Or maybe if they act out, trying to help contestants when they shouldn't be, they'd attract their ire...

Game Ideas

Blindman's Bluff: One person is blindfolded and must find and tag another player. The blindman has shoes, whereas everyone else has had theirs confiscated. The floor is covered in glass.

Duck, Duck, Viper: This game is set up like an ordinary game of Duck, Duck, Goose with one notable addition to the fox, ducks and geese. One player amongst you will be a Viper, holding a knife. Should the Fox accidentally select the Viper as a Goose, the Viper will then chase the Fox around the circle and attempt to stab them. The Viper wins if they are successful in this.

Tortilla Game: Both contestants put water in their mouths. Take turns slapping one another with a variety of objects on the table to try to either make them laugh or induce pain and spit all the water. The objects are: a tortilla, a table tennis paddle, a deflated soccer ball, a ruler, your own open palm.

Red Light, Green Light: Classic! The giant robot turns its head alternatingly between the tree and the field. When the robot is looking at the tree, run towards the finish line. When the robot’s head is facing the field, stop and so not move! Under penalty of being shot, but not necessarily to death.

Sardines in a Can: One person is “it” and has to find the sardines. Everyone else runs and hides. If you pick the same spot as someone, you must either be making noise the entire time, or stab one other. Try not to be found by the hungry fisherman -- a guard with a gun.

Inchworm: One person must get on the other’s shoulders. The top person can only use their arms, the bottom can only use their legs. Scale a ladder as a chamber fills with water. Only one person is allowed to leave the exit, or both people must lose a hand or a foot.

... We need mirrors

Museum of Multidimensional Art
Searching through the city will eventually yield the location of the server farm: the special collections section of the Museum of Multidimensional Art. Castor might not know how to care for living beings (including himself, now) but he appreciates their creations, and the museum is an elaborate, sprawling structure with myriad exhibits.

The building itself is a vision of modern architecture, an art piece of its own, and the slanted doors open into a wide foyer with an arching thirty foot ceiling. From it is suspended a wire sculpture, each piece arranged separately so that standing from different positions in the foyer creates a different visual impression from each angle. Is that a bird, or a whale, or a baby? The overall effect is something like cloud-watching with wires.

Other pieces on display vary widely with examples from across every dimension, such as a framed photograph of a dress that some might see as blue and black, others white and gold, and other interesting exhibits. There are, of course, plenty done in more traditional mediums, but even those tend to be experimental in some way.

Special Collections
Special collections is located in the basement levels beneath the museum. An elevator provides access to those with either a keycard or the abilities to hack past the security system, and then characters are presented with a massive open-air chain-link framework serving as a gated wall, protected by its own locks. These no keycard will pass, and must be dismantled with other means.

Beyond is, at first, actual art. Several levels have nothing but vertical slide-out racks containing carefully preserved paintings and other works, and one must wander past them to encounter the final door before multiple floors of stairs that descend to the server farm. It's impossible to miss the transition, as the final door is a chambered air-lock they must pass through into a space fully devoid of air.

Heart of a City
Similar to Aurora's server floors for those who've been there, there's an additional sub-basement level with machinery for constructing companion bots, the equipment non-functional and utterly silent in the vacuum. Without air to carry vibrations, sound is impossible -- hopefully, anyone pursuing this has another way to communicate.

One more level down is a massive white-walled cavern, the stairs simply ending, cutting off abruptly above a pool of cool blue liquid stretching out before them. Bulky inert vines of mixed organic and inorganic matter wind across the ceiling and down the walls toward the liquid.

Set in a wall to the side of the stair's landing is a more conventional computer terminal, and a place to key in commands. A softly blinking red light indicates emergency. Opening the briefcase Aurora had provided with the associated keychip reveals not a hard drive but a mechanical seed resembling the winding vines.

Booting up the terminal will prompt a series of questions, and for those with enough computer knowledge to move through them, ultimately, instructions: throw the seed into the pool.

❬ MISSION NOTES ❭

📌 — Please make sure to use the major events comment thread specifically to announce character actions that have a significant impact on the mission outcome or other characters. In this mission, the outcome will be largely determined based on events reported here. Please also report if your character dies while in Pollux.

📌 — This is a meta-plot heavy mission with opt-in heavy / intense content. It will last until there is enough IC activity to determine how it ends. The mission wrap-up post will summarize actions taken by characters and what the ultimate outcome is.

📌 — For all questions relating to this mission, please refer to the mission queries comment on this post. Other questions can be directed to the FAQ.

🔵FULL NAVIGATION🔵

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's a little after the standard dinner hour is over that Nero stumbles in, looking a little worse for wear. He's dressed down from his usual clothes in a fresh-ish tanktop, though that just makes it obvious how many bandages are stuck over his arms, including a wrap around his right forearm. There's a rather nasty skidmark on his face, as though he took a fall off a bike, and he's moving his hands a little gingerly as well.

Nero says absolutely nothing about it as he slides, with a wince, into one of the barstools across the kitchen island from where Vergil seems to be tidying up.]

Hey Dad. Sorry I'm late. Is the kitchen closed?

[There is absolutely no way he's not going to have attention drawn to his injuries, but he figures if he opens with some small talk it may not panic his father as much.]

[Vergil, of course, pauses in his tidying up of the kitchen now that the majority have those around the camp have eaten when he hears someone stumbling into the kitchen. His surprise that it is Nero doesn't make it into his expression, but that is because he is already immediately scrutinizing every visible sign of injury on his son. Were he not already clearly seen to medically, there wouldn't have been anything Nero could have possibly said or done that would have simmered a spike of panic. But as it is, Vergil trusts enough that Nero would not be up walking around if that was inadvisable.]

[It also clarifies to Vergil why he didn't see Nero filter in at some point when the majority of people were collecting their dinner. He hadn't... Okay, well, he had been a touch concerned about that. There is little that can keep either his brother or son away from a fresh meal, but he chose to err on the side that Nero was managing something important rather than something had gone wrong.]

For anyone else, it would be.

[Which is the absolute truth. Anyone else stumbling into one of the kitchens this late would need to fend for themselves rather than expect Vergil to prepare something for them even if they were as banged up as Nero appears to be. He finishes wiping down the countertop he was tending to before Nero walked in.]

I saved you some of the bacon.

[Short of literally biting his tongue, Vergil is still very visibly biting it. He wants to ask what happened, of course, but he is trying not to be that overbearing and protective. So, he grants Nero his small talk rather than interrogating him over each cut and bruise.]

Oh, thank fuck. [Nero's relief that dinner is still available for him is immeasurable. The fact there's bacon left for him, even better. He grins and exhales happily, leaning both elbows on the counter in front of him to relax.

And that's enough small talk for now, because he can practically sense Vergil vibrating out of his skin wanting to know what happened.]

I'm okay, promise. Bruises, scrapes, busted my knuckles, and skid 30 yards down the pavement. [A gesture towards his face, which also indicates the skidmarks on his right arm and the right side of his body in general.] You should see the other guy.

[Vergil doesn't breathe a sigh of relief that Nero begins informing him what happened given that he is still quite injured, but there is a marginal decrease in his visible tension when Nero doesn't make Vergil have to start prying what happened out of him once he's hit a limit with small talk filling the air.]

An enforcer?

[Not to discredit the challenge the undead pose, but Vergil finds it hard to believe that Nero would struggle against something as mindless as them. There are demons with more intelligence than that that Nero hardly breaks a sweat fighting against after all.]

[He turns the toaster oven on, tossing his cleaning rag into a bin with other used ones, before going to the fridge and pulling out the leftovers to cook and assemble a bacon burger for Nero. He produces a beer he's tucked away and hidden in the back as well, opening it and sliding it across the island to Nero.]

[Nero could not look more grateful for the beer, muttering a thanks as he accepts it. Albeit with his fingers curled a little clumsily around it.]

Yeah. Two of 'em. It was a whole shitshow.

[Wincing, he tightens his hand around the bottle to insist on taking a sip in spite of any pain.]

I was watchin' out for some gatherers, when they stirred up some zombies. Easy, right? But as soon as I get the last one down, this enforcer pops out of nowhere and starts unloading a shotgun at us.

So I kicked his ass, and then his partner shows up. And he's got fuckin' superpowers.

[Vergil lays out strips of bacon onto the sheet for the toaster oven while Nero fills him on what happened. He lays down enough for two burgers although there's only enough remaining bread for one. He doesn't imagine that will inspire complaints.]

Did you hold back?

[Vergil doesn't bother asking if anyone else got hurt. For one, that's irrelevant to him. It is a risk all who leave the camp agree to take on, and Nero made it back alive. The latter is all that counts for Vergil regardless. For another, Vergil doesn't imagine Nero allowed for it to happen under his watch in the first place. Most likely all the attention and focus was on him rather than his companions, anyways, once he began fighting back. He is curious, however, how Nero handled himself. He doesn't imagine Nero let entirely loose on the enforcer with the shotgun, and only used as much force necessary to incapacitate him.]

[He sets a pan on the stovetop and turns on the stove before buttering the remaining hamburger bun.]

Hell no. I wrapped that shotgun around the first guy's neck.

[Nero doesn't like the prospect of going whole hog on a human, but a human firing a gun at a bunch of innocents is a whole other story.]

Second guy, though... he was fast. And had some kinda... metal shit with his skin. Like he could harden it. It was like punching a car.

[He takes another swig of beer, pulling a face and rubbing his knuckles after he sets the bottle down.]

I couldn't get a scratch on him. Blue Rose just dented him. So I had to do some problem-solving.

[Vergil gives a silent nod of approval at Nero's decision not to hold back.]

An impressive ability if Blue Rose was that ineffective.

[Especially considering the practice Nero has been putting into his demonic abilities alongside the gun's natural force. Little should be able to withstand that much literal firepower aimed at it with as deadly of precision as Nero has in his aim.]

What did you do?

[It was when Nero leveled a massive blast out of Blue Rose and the enforcer just winced a little and undented his chest that he knew the regular tricks wouldn't work. And being a handy kind of guy (ha ha) Nero decided to try a little experiment.]

I figured if I couldn't go through him, I'd have to damage him some other way. So I devil triggered, tackled him high speed, and ground him against the pavement so hard sparks flew.

I call it, "The Angle Grinder."

[Vergil sets the halves of the burger pan into the pan to begin toasting it, but he still smiles in quiet pride as Nero explains what he did. Nero's childish need to name it aside, Vergil has to admit that's quite the inspired plan and a good use of his own abilities to counter his opponent's defenses.]

That was sharp thinking. Was that sufficient enough to put a stop to him?

[Childish... whatever, Mr. Judgement Cut End.]

Well, I didn't get too close a look at what was left when I stopped but, uh. Yeah. Yeah, it was.

[Nero gestures faintly at the road rash on the side of his face.]

Anyway, that's what that's from.

[Vergil tips his head slightly at hearing that's where specifically the injuries came from. While he was in his demonic form and there was that much damage left? Granted, it likely would have been a lot worse if Nero had attempted a stunt like that in his human form, but Vergil would anticipate him to look at least a little better than that.]

And your healing ability was only able to manage that much?

[He frowns slightly, mouth crooking to the side a little. It's not a hurt look, specifically, but Nero seems quite aware that he's lacking something in the progress he's made in fixing himself up.]

Um. Yeah. So far.

[He glances up for a brief uneasy moment, then reaches for his beer again.]

You got any tips?

[Vergil shakes his head slightly.]

On this matter, I am not of much immediate assistance. My healing ability is an automatic process, and not something that I must will before it takes effect. When it moves slower and there are visible signs of injury, that is simply because I have expended much of my strength and power already. I require rest and food before it will move at an accelerated rate once more.

[Hence why after the twins have been out playing together, both of them come back with cuts, bruises, and scrapes and soreness that can linger for days afterward until they've properly recovered.]

[But like Vergil said, he is not likely to be of immediate assistance. That does not mean he cannot help Nero find some way to make it more effective for him by working through it together. So, he expresses genuine curiosity for Nero's process.]

Has it been something you must concentrate on rather than something passive?

[Vergil removes the hamburger bun from the pan and sets it on a plate. The bacon is then put into the toaster oven to reheat before Vergil adds two patties to the pan.]

[Yeah, he did know that much. Vergil and Dante don't have to think much at all about healing. He's watched Dante literally mend his ribs and sternum back together with nary a care. Meanwhile, Nero's basically had the healing metabolism of a regular human his whole life, up until his powers fully awoke. Even then, they were nowhere near that fast.]

Yeah. Usually I have to devil trigger to heal myself at all.

[Maybe that'll be something he just has to deal with as a consequence of how his powers work. But it would be really, really nice if he didn't have to go full-demon just to heal a few scrapes.]

I kinda wore myself out there... like, I had the momentum going but my gas ran out before I stopped skidding, you know?

[Meaning he took a few yards on the right side of his human face and body. Ouch.]

[Vergil is quiet a moment, thoughtful in that time he does not provide immediate response. It makes sense that unleashing the full extent of his demonic ability would result in his healing ability activating as well. It is, however, more than a little excessive (and likely exhausting) to have to rely on that form all the time for healing to happen in the first place, and especially if it is over more minor injuries.]

[Mizu's healing factor comes to mind as he ponders the notion of smaller injuries. Her healing ability is not something automatic. She specifically requested that it not be when she asked for it from Thirteen so she could still get in her practice fighting while injured, but not need to wait so long between sparring matches with Vergil.]

...Have you tried concentrating on a small area of your body at a time?

[There is nothing to suggest that Nero's power will work the same way as Mizu's ability, but it would not necessarily hurt to try as a starting point until he gains greater mastery over it.]

[Nero's lip quirks in the opposite direction at the suggestion. It appears that this is a new and novel thought for him.]

Not really. Concentrating on anything really isn't my thing.

[But it makes sense, actually. It's the difference between like... a flashbang and a penlight. A small, focused beam instead of a great burst in every direction.]

I'd like to try though. My knuckles fucking hurt.

Start there, then. One knuckle at a time, if you must.

[Vergil does not know how narrow the focus must be to start, but that makes sense as a good point to try considering it is not a large patch of skin like some of his other current injuries.]

You may try to envision the injury mending itself.

[That is how he understands it working for Mizu. She meditates in silence, envisioning the energy of her ability focusing on the wound. Vergil is not certain how much it is actually required for her to think of it like that in order for her ability to work, but it gives her mind something to turn over while she sits and waits. Given how hard it is for Nero to often sit and think, perhaps something like that may help while his demonic power does the rest.]

Okay.

[Innate demon healing factor vs. ADHD: GO!

With a resolute swig of his beer, Nero sets down the bottle and then puts his elbow on the counter like he's challenging nobody to an arm wrestle. He stares at the bruised, swollen knuckles. Almost distracted by how gnarly they look. But then he's picturing the demonic power, that tingle he can feel under his skin that he uses to devil trigger, and trying to will it to going where he wants. Right to that knuckle on his left index finger, where the hairline fracture is.

He gets through about a minute and a half of silence, miraculously, then sighs.]

This feels really stupid.

[Vergil lets Nero be while he tries to work on his ability. He works on starting to assemble the burger for Nero by getting mayo and a bed of lettuce down. He's just about to remove the bacon from the toaster oven when Nero speaks up.]

As do most things when you try them for the first time. [He shuts the toaster oven off and removes the bacon.] Does your hand feel any different?

I think it's swelling up. It's like twice the size of normal.

[That wasn't the question, Nero. It takes him a moment to circle back to it.]

Ah. No, I don't... think so. [A beat.] Not yet.

[He glances to see how much bacon Vergil made, and how much he'd need to properly cover his burger. Perfect. Should be enough.]

Maybe a piece of bacon will get me in the right mindset...?

[Vergil pauses in layering the bacon on the lettuce, his brow fixing itself into a slight furrow. He clicks his tongue and layers the rest of the strips. Clearly, Nero has not made a particularly convincing argument connecting the consumption of bacon with the effectiveness of concentration as it pertains to his healing.]

You are like a child asking to lick the spoon... [All except one strip is placed on the bun. That last one, Vergil brings to Nero in spite of his mild admonishment.] Would you like some ice for your hand?

On that note, you got any spoons that need licking?

[Nero takes the bacon with a victorious grin, immediately putting it in his mouth. Truth be told, he's fucking starving. That burger is gonna be an endangered species here in a moment.

It occurs to him that actually, this is probably an explanation why he's having a hard time getting healed up or getting his powers to listen to him-- on top of needing the practice. Being hungry never helps.]

Yes please. You got anything for my face? Paper bag, maybe?

[Vergil lightly rolls his eyes at the suggestion of a paper bag for his face. He takes a moment to flip the patties over. As he does, he says,]

Perhaps your uncle has a pair of sunglasses or an obnoxious hat to distract from it that you may borrow until it heals.

[He takes one of the clean rags for cleaning the kitchen before walking over to the freezer and gathering up some ice, bringing the little bundle over to Nero.]

[He laughs. This is far from the worst Nero's face has ever looked, and he's certainly not ashamed to have gotten his road rash protecting people who needed it. He'll wear it like a badge of honor until he's able to heal it up.

Which honestly, he still hopes is sooner than later.

He gratefully accepts the bundle of ice, adjusting it a little bit and then setting it against the back of his left hand knuckles. Both of his hands are jacked up, he's sure, but he'd rather prioritize his dominant hand to start with.

He regards the throbbing sensation with a hum, and decides to ask what's on his mind.]

How do you focus on something? Clear your mind and all of that. You're always so good at it.

a title better than knuckleburgers

if only there was a word that already existed :(

smdh

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