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

[thatbites]

They don't live on the moon!

[Does she sound Australian to you, Jack? She just covers her eyes with a hand. Talking to this old man will give her headaches.]

Out of everything you've said... Yeah. It's really curse-y.

[refactor]

[ But they could. Jack at least lets the moon part of this conversation go, because he is mildly interested in the Wendingo thing. He shrugs, and proceeds onto what's a perfectly reasonable line of questioning in his mind. ]

So, what, you like fight Wendingos or something? Or I guess try to. 'Cause to be honest, you don't exactly look like someone who would— [ He cuts off that thought abruptly, seeming to change his mind about what he wanted to ask. ]

No, actually, nevermind. First, what're you packing to deal with them? Pistol, shotgun, bigger shotgun...?