Mission 015 Log

[etrayamods]

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🔵

Comments

[numinousname]

[they squeeze at his hand. what a wretched sight to behold...himself, too? a frightening prospect.]

It seems a...waking nightmare, no? [not that they can claim to properly know what nightmares feel like. they just deal with all the horrors in the normal, awake way.]

[thantagonist]

[He throws an arm around Tristan’s shoulders and pulls him close.]

And nightmares are just that. Inconsequential. Unreal. I’m fine. [Even after seeing it with his own eyes he can’t believe it.] There’s no prophecy about me killing myself and my colleague.

But the coincidence must have been wretched for you.

[numinousname]

[they scoot closer, snaking an arm around his waist while the other remains pressed between them, fingers uncurling to gently graze at his clavicle, any skin within its reach.

But his soul... they felt it. could they have been deceived?

they...don't want to speculate, to continue to refute the assurance Daniil offers. that's ungrateful.]

Simply...different. Than the dead I've faced. [not simply. but.]

[thantagonist]

And very different from the dead I’ve faced as well! There’s many corpses I prefer the company of when faced with the general public. None of those would I count among them.

[Daniil enjoys this. This companionable closeness. It calms him and settles him, though he has much trouble classifying what it is to him. ]

[numinousname]

[comfort, Tristan would suggest at first blush. it's comforting to be held. but it's a comfort different than the over-the-shoulder hugs Junpei drops on them, or even those endlessly snug embraces dear Ardul beset them with whenever they were too sad (they'll...never have one again, will they-?).

it's like...finally grazing their fingers against E-Soul's bare skin. comfort, mingled with a vulnerable trust. despite all they lack - or perhaps because of it? - Daniil trusted them with his vulnerability...and a closeness he confessed to not sharing with anyone.

Tristan has wondered, in their own time, if their otherness made it so they...didn't really count as a true person to him. not intentionally, they're sure, but...on some level.

they're not human, so that may be it.

their mouth twitches a little. At least I am better company than corpses, no?]

Have you learned anything new? Compared to your study...back in your homeland.

[thantagonist]

[On some level, it’s because Tristan is so divorced from all the sources of judgement in his life. A creature they can vent to and touch and rely upon. A love that feels oddly unconditional. That’s too difficult to wrestle with, conceptually. Was Tristan a pet? A guardian? A lover? Like the love from the divine? The love put upon a childhood toy? Their base appearance so unusual and magical that it boggles him. Where does Tristan fit in his life? Somewhere, certainly. But hovering cloyingly outside of definition. Whatever it was, Daniil was not equipped to examine it.]

I’ve learned so much that it has destroyed my sense of reality in a way that I’m not sure that I haven’t already been driven mad, you must understand.

[He says it like it’s not big deal but that’s definitely. Definitely a really big deal. ]

My understanding of the cosmos has been smeared across the tracks, pulverized to bits. In many ways, this is always what I wanted.

[numinousname]

[smeared and pulverized are...not very pleasant-seeming terms, despite the nonchalance they're offered with. Tristan stares at him quizzically.

honestly, the way he so off-handedly suggests he may be mad... Sounds like Ul'grimm. another familiar facet. with so little of their own, Tristan can't deny...it feels good to be able to weave threads together for themself - a tiny tapestry of linked-up memories and associations of their own. napkin-sized, perhaps, but they've no choice but to start small.]

Such a thing seems...very frightening, to me. And if you are mad, you are at least kind. [they wouldn't dare try to be the authority on what's sane - look at them! there's little precedent for them in their own, weird world.

their hand caught between them turns so they may press their palm to his chest.]

Your heart still beats the same as it did before, yes? There may, at least...be that much.

[thantagonist]

Much to ponder. Surely it won’t all make sense to me in just days or weeks. The nature of reality keeps opening up, showing something else of itself. It sits beyond ordinary comprehension. [Daniil’s eyes unfocus in the dark little container of a room, Tristan’s glowing veins like street lamps outside, coming in through linen bed curtains. Like candlelight from the den where his parents sat and talked at night.]

No one ever sees that I’m kind, did you know that? To everyone else I’m some tyrant, just because I look out for them. Because I’m trying to keep them safe. People can be such children.

[ And that it does, reliably, beat in his chest as it ever had. ]

But yours does as well. For all that you think poorly of yourself… Where did that come from? Who put that in your head, Tristan?

[numinousname]

[they breathe a soft, amused sound. maybe he is a tyrant. how would Tristan know better? he's not had cause to act as such around them, so it's a facet they do not yet know, if it is true at all.

the smile lingers as they close their eyes, some kind of reflexive shuttering to having focus redirected upon them.]

It is...less that I am poor, and more that...everyone else is so rich. Of lives lived, trials endured, victories won, big and small. Darkness would...have me resent it all, especially my lacking. But...it feels better to be grateful. That I can notice it at all.

Any kindness in me...must surely be but a reflection of kindness given me. Translated through me. Since...there is nothing else to draw from. [they crack an eye open, smile wry.]

Unless a year's worth of farmers and miners and a very exhausted cleric are the root of that kindness, and not myself at all. I think...that could be true, too.

[the eye closes as they go quiet for a moment.]

...I didn't...speak of the mirror, did I. Hmh...

[thantagonist]

I think there is a goodness and kindness inborn. Children are only rotten when we’re rotten to them. They’re selfish, perhaps, but is that so wrong?

But you, with your reduced context, are anything but selfish. Man has survived by cooperation, and people cooperate best when they are treated with kindness.

If I fail in my mission for immortality, I likely have fifty years left to live. You’ve got that as well, surely. [ No one has told him how long an elf lives. ] It’s never enough time, but it’s enough to make something with. I’ve already outlived most of those born in the same year as me by a couple years.

[numinousname]

[their eyes open partway while he talks, getting cloudy at the mention of years, of failed missions.

No, not near that much time. Six months. If that omen was right.

I wonder...if that time translates here.

something to fret about later. put a pin in it.]

Ah, you'll...age into a wizened, kind tyrant then, mm?

[thantagonist]

Ah, I shouldn’t have told told you that. I’m not a tyrant at all, remember!

[ Even if they were joking, he had to watch his words, didn’t he? It gives him pause. What else has he said to Tristan that he wasn’t keeping track of? All of it, likely. He had a bad habit of speaking without thinking. ]

No, I expect time will wear on me, as it does everyone.

You know, I haven’t asked. Does magic impact how long people from your world live?

[numinousname]

I imagine...as much as medicine could. [their expression softens out of the tease, contemplative.] Being cured of a dire ailment could draw the years out further, no? Though...there are tales of warriors whose lives extend...because of vows taken. Magic-bound to a task that...won't let them die until it is seen to.

[thantagonist]

I might take such a quest and ignore it indefinitely then for the immortality. Can a task really be so dire if its consequences would not just extinguish sufficient enough life to make it impossible to live forever?

[Hypothetically, of course.]

But yes, curing ailments always extends life.

[numinousname]

A vow like that would...have a dreadful cost, I would think. Otherwise...as you say, it could be shirked for the sake of prolonged life. [their gaze trails off, while their fingers are errantly fiddling with buttons and hem of his shirt in their limited reach.]

But I...don't know if I know anyone who has been given extended life. Only...repeated rebirths. Or life beyond death, stranded in the Mothwood.

[thantagonist]

What is the Mothwood, exactly?

[He feels Tristan playing with the buttons of his shirt. He bites the inside of his cheek. Were they flirting? Maybe an odd conversation to turn that direction unless they were trying to shut him up. ]

[numinousname]

It's... [they hesitate, humming a faint sound before their mouth twitches.] It's...many things, I fear. A forest, a sacred entity, a...cage...for the lingering dead...a ground for fell rituals... [they exhale a soft sigh.]

It is also...the being that lives at the center of the forest. Mother Mothwood, the ailing force being abused by someone to bend her power to his will.

At first, I...I thought I was going there simply to help Ul'grimm excavate old technology there. We all did. But it was a lie from the start. And so the story moved...and accelerated.

[thantagonist]

Many things. All of them literal? Are we talking about living earth?

[Danill’s words are soft, spoken so close to Tristan’s face. He tries not to grow irritated by the ambiguity of the answer.]

What was the lie?

[numinousname]

Mn. All of that...is in there. Yes. Even the technology we were told to find, though...we were never expected to procure it. Never meant to...salvage machines. Our commissioner wanted us to become entrenched and get wound up in all of... [a vague head shake.] All of that. Confronting those entities, stopping those rituals, seeking those dead...all of it.

She...knew it would happen. Our commissioner. She asked for me by the name. And I didn't know at the time...that it was more than just a name from a story to tell children.

It makes me wonder what choice I had. The chances I'd have ever truly...said no, at that time. And if that...would've made things different.

[a beat.]

But I...know it is foolish business. Wondering on what could've been. [they open their eyes again.] Looking back...only makes it more difficult to move forward, no?

[thantagonist]

[Daniil is suspiciously quiet for a moment.]

I’m not so sure.

[After all. It’s what he does almost professionally. What he’s wanted more than anything, the ability to go back and change things. And it’s what he does.]

[But maybe he shouldn’t encourage this. It can’t be possible for everyone. Right?]

I don’t think it’s so foolish, if you know exactly what you might have done differently.

[numinousname]

Do you? That is...if there is a want to change what you would've done, somewhere. Sometime, rather.

[thantagonist]

I’m going to tell you something, and I think the part that bothers me most is that you’re going to believe me. Because I wouldn’t have believed me.

But I’ve done it. I’ve gone back and fixed things before.

[numinousname]

Through time? [they stare, pondering.] How? Do you...know how you managed it? [power word: save scum??]

[thantagonist]

I’m not precisely sure what the mechanics are and why I haven’t been able to do it while here. I might just be out of amalgam, out of time, I should say. Which would make sense… It sort of… dissipates over time.

But I can find it when I break mirrors. [ a pause ] …Or if I euthanize a dying person. But the mirrors here are the wrong kind, they contain no time. And it hasn’t been appropriate to euthanize anyone.

It may be that I need the Cathedral here. It produces time, you see. I know that sounds absolutely nonsensical, but it’s true.

[numinousname]

[they're quiet for a prolonged moment, processing all this.]

Mirrors... [Why is it--] That's...a strange coincidence. Do you...see anything besides yourself within the glass?