WEEK 1 - Online

[al2955]

the pygmalion. . . ONLINE CAPTAIN'S LOG: WEEK (1)

monday (41) survivors It had been three days since you had awoken. The ship was still quiet, except for the low hums of enigmatic machines with no apparent purpose. You awake, like usual, to dim lighting and poor rations. Perhaps being on the ship had grown monotonous — it was, perhaps, amazing how little anything seemed to happen in space, a final frontier of malaise. That monotony is crushed by a voice echoing through the narrow hallways. Reformatting . . . Reformatting . . . Reformatting complete. The Pygmalion is online. Welcome, travelers. Please assemble in the meeting room. Your presence is mandatory. Silence falls once again. A minute or so passes, and the lights around the ship finally brighten, the walls looking more alive and more unfamiliar — as if you must relearn the ship's interior once again. The robots on deck begin to make rounds, nudging and pushing at the ship's passengers to make their way to the meeting room. You hear the doors behind you lock. It seems there is only one path to take. ENTER COMMAND_

Comments

[thanatosincarnate]

{ She should be commended for her efforts-- though, he raises a brow at her awkward laughter. Marinette, pls.}

No. Everything that's listed on my profile is accurate and not a joke -- unlike some.

We're lucky they didn't decide to make our personal lives public.

[missmaladroite]

[So much for trying to lighten the mood, Monsieur Wet Blanket!!]

[her awkward laughter persists]

They're... just trying to freak us out?

[thanatosincarnate]

{ He is the wet blanket, it is him. }

That's only one part of it before they likely try to do something to crush our spirits.