failedparenting: (16: Brainstorming)
[personal profile] failedparenting
[John decided he's just stay away from the network for a while after getting shouted down for arming children. In retrospect, he should've done a little more intensive background on the kids here, but that would've been bordering on creepy. And there's nothing wrong with guns anyway, you're all terrible.

But regardless of guns and kids, he's back today. Not with lessons, but questions, snooping like the other old farts around here love to do.]


what's magic like where you're from? does it exist? is it more fucking witches making people's teeth fall out or goddamn fairy dust and unicorns? does anyone come from a place with magic like Wonderland?

most importantly: does the magic from your world work here?
walkingheroin: (consultthemuses10)
[personal profile] walkingheroin
[Lucifer is sitting at the bench of a shiny black piano, his fingers gently pressing the keys in a smooth melody with talented fingers as he starts to speak. It's unclear how he's being filmed without actually holding the device himself, but I'm sure it's probably just someone holding it for him.

Or not.]


Hello again, denizens of Wonderland. I made a promise to you all, and as you can see, I'm following through on it.

[Around him is a very lavish, large, and chic room, though it's clear that the piano he's at is in the middle of the room and slightly lower than most of the couches and tables, with the bar at the far end. There's also a stage microphone set up beside him, though he's not using it at the moment.]

Say hello to Deux Lux. Anyone with the ability to have fun is welcome and expected. Sixth floor, room sixty-six. It's a bit smaller than the original, I'm afraid, but it will do for now.

[He grins.]

Feel free to help yourself behind the bar when you arrive. If I think you have some skill when it comes to pouring cocktails, perhaps I'll offer you a job. Until those positions are filled, however, I'm afraid I can't do everything all by myself. I'm the Devil, not a miracle worker.

----------------------------

[ooc: Feel free to answer Lucifer over the network or come hang out at the club. THIS CAN BE A PARTY POST. Feel free to tag around as much as you want! I'll have my own starter for Lucifer inside and will tag around as well. Have fun <3]
eatsyourscience: (this sacrificial offering of virgin ears)
[personal profile] eatsyourscience
[As always, Souji's in the diner, but sitting in a booth instead of behind the counter. Since there's no one there at the moment, he's more hanging out than working.

There's a thick volume on the table in front of him and though the contents isn't clear due to the camera angle, it's easy enough to guess that it's a photo album or scrapbook of some kind. There's also a not entirely ancient Polariod camera at his elbow. He flips through the thick pages of the album as he speaks.]


The last owner of the diner had this tradition of taking a picture of everyone who came in and putting it in this album. I found it and her camera behind the counter a few weeks ago, but with events and everything I forgot about it.

[He's actually pretty happy it was still there and the small, nostalgic smile on this face says so. He picks up the camera and turns it over in his hands, looking it over.]

I want to start it up again. It's just a picture and a name, so we can keep a record of who was here after they leave.

[He sets the camera back down, closer to the device he's using, but he's still visible past it, looking into the feed now.]

Hm...since there are a lot of new people lately, I'm Seta Souji. I run the diner on the eighth floor, kind of. Anyone can come by any time.

[...]

Just expect to have your picture taken, if you do.

[As promised, he'll be in the diner for...ever.]
dreamsoftreacle: (Dream of Sorrow)
[personal profile] dreamsoftreacle
Trick or treat...trick'r'treat...gimme something good to eat...

[The Dormouse didn't even make it to his teacup today. He's curled up on a tearoom table, snoozing and humming a vague tune in his sleep.]

Treacle tarts or treacle pies...take 'em so...nobody dies...

[He stops for a moment, as though maybe he fell asleep of forgot the words, but with a jolt as though he fell in his dreams, he starts again.]

--Treats or tricks! Treats...or tricks...wonder which one you'll...you'll pick...

[All goes quiet again, except for the tiniest snoring. Eventually, the feed ends on its own.]
suicidemission: credit <user site="insanejournal.com" user="dreacons"> (pic#7443369)
[personal profile] suicidemission
[ It's like 9pm on a Friday and to say Chuck is 'drunk' is a vast understatement.

But Aussie's are built tough, so when he comes on the network, he's not even slurring. ]


Right, 's been a while, kids. We're gonna play a game. Ever hear of word association? I say a word, you say the first thing that comes to mind in association with that word.

I'll start.

Blood.

(( ooc; chuck's drunk and bored. come at him with words, feel free to threadjack if other players are okay with it, or just bounce back and forth with Chuck. ))
ttlynotabloodmage: (you'll help me right?)
[personal profile] ttlynotabloodmage
[There's no warning what's going on before the video starts, just a flash of bright light and violent motion as the recording device shoots across the room and bounces off a wall, landing to give a tilted view of Jowan's room. It's not a particularly interesting room, nearly as stark and empty as they all start out when claimed, although it does now feature a small fire burning merrily in the corner. Not in a fireplace, which is probably why it's starting to spread quite alarmingly, but it definitely brightens the place up.

It's also probably the reason why Jowan is panicking just a little.]
That wasn't supposed to happen!

[He stands at the edge of what the device is recording of the room and looks largely uncertain, glancing around the room for an idea of what to do before swallowing hard and taking a step forward, brow furrowing as he extends his hands and frost leaves his fingertips. The flames crackle loudly at the ice and Jowan closes his eyes, pushing more power into the spell until a sheet of ice surges forward suddenly, dousing the flames and leaving a good chunk of the room covered in ice. But at least there's no fire any more, right?]

I don't understand what went wrong! It shouldn't be this difficult. [He wanders over to nudge the ice with a toe and sigh heavily.] Why does this always end up happening to me?
eyething: (i n v i t e)
[personal profile] eyething
[Damon is not happy, and definitely not drunk enough for this. At first, he assumed he'd been hallucinating, on some trip after drinking bad blood. However, he has been roaming Wonderland for hours on this bright and early morning, while everyone else was likely asleep. He’s poked his head in where it doesn’t belong, waiting for the hallucination to fade. Spoilers: it doesn’t. He finally studies the communication device, accepting that this is either one very long dream or he’s actually here. Somehow. He’s on the main floor, pressed up against the marble pillar, staring up at the ceiling. It takes minimal effort to skim through previous entries before he switches to video.]

Question #1, for the masses: How drunk do you have to be for this place to start making sense? Because I’m starting to think this poor, lonely bottle's not gonna cut it. [Damon looks to the bottle in his hand with a little sigh, tapping his fingers on its surface.] Looks like we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

[He takes a long drink, swallows, and sends the camera a slow but absolutely charming smirk:]

Question #2: what’s the one thing you wish someone had told you on your first day in the merry old Land of Wonder, but failed to?

[Damon points a finger at the camera with the hand that's still partly wound around the bottle] And go. Best answers get a pony.
monosaccharide: canon (goliad109)
[personal profile] monosaccharide
Greetings denizens of Wonderland!

[Bubblegum looks excited today. She has a lab coat on over her pink dress, her hair piled into a bun and out of the way.]

I have made some rather alarming discoveries, and I thought I would share them with you.

[She fiddles with a remote and the picture is replaced with an image, her face shrinking to a smaller box in the corner.]

For those of you from less scientifically advanced worlds, this is a PET scan. It shows activity in the brain. As you can see, I've marked off several areas of note. This subject made an excellent example, as they have experienced unrelated amnesia as well as Wonderland memory loss. You see in "Area A," there's a darker smudge? That is what I'd expect memory loss to look like. This subject's memories have been manipulated rather extensively, so it isn't surprising that the data would be a little... fuzzy.

But the areas marked "B" and "C".... when I first noticed those I thought there might be something wrong with my equipment, but after discussion with the subject and testing my equipment further, I am forced to conclude that my reading is correct.

My subject has lost two memories from the so-called "Wonderland Events" and traded one away to the vendors. She has three dots where there is simply... no data, two smaller, one larger. This should not be possible. It certainly is alarming. Nothing should be able to remove data so thoroughly. Nothing. But if my hypothesis is correct, Wonderland is doing just that.

[She touches her control again, sending the brain scan away, her own image now taking up the entire screen. She smiles sunnily.]

Anyway, I'm happy to share my full report with anyone interested. I'd also welcome anyone willing to volunteer as a subject. The more data we have, the more substantial a theory I can build.

Thank you for your time. I will take any and all questions you may have now.
nascensibility: but will break ur neck (cute as heck)
[personal profile] nascensibility
[After months of attempted planning (most of which was frequently cast to the wayside in favour of dealing with whatever fresh Hell decided to make itself known to them all) Evelyn has come to the conclusion that there will never be a "Good Time," and has therefore decided that with that being the case, it is simply easier to set what she likes, when she likes.

This is all a very runabout way of saying that Evelyn has politely asked the Mansion - which, as we all now know, is practically sentient - to deliver the following invitation to everyone's door:
]



[Intangible* attachments have also been forwarded to each resident, supplemented by the following transmission:]

I'm holding a fête this Friday evening - there isn't a particular time for required attendance, it should be ongoing for several hours after dinner - and I should like as many parties as available to come. It is themed, as there are a number of us here from time periods before 1950, so appropriate attire is encouraged, but not mandated.

[This is in part due to a withering homesickness that Wonderland itself has been unable to satisfy.]

Kindly respond if you do plan to join, and I hope to see you all on Friday.




[*Evelyn is having a difficult time remembering to call them "digital."]
hypoxic: (grieving heaven)
[personal profile] hypoxic
[Video]

[Fitz had intended to send this as a private message to Dr. Foster, but a sudden onset of dizziness and blurred vision meant a text message was out of the question. Video would have to do. He'd remembered to set the privacy settings, hadn't he? Probably.

He addresses the network with a bleary expression, glassy eyes rolling up into his head until he blinks to train them back into place. His skin is an unhealthy pallor, ghastly white with a rash of dark splotches tainting the deep bags under his eyes.]


Doctor Foster... I, ah... The samples from the tunnels? I've been performing analyses, and I've reason to suspect that they aren't quite safe... They react terribly to human DNA samples. It's... I'm not a strong enough biologist to reach a proper conclusion, but some sort of degeneration appears to be taking place.

I also think it might be in our best interests to quarantine off the remaining sediment. The dust has been... It's...

[He grimaces and clenches his jaw, bowing his head for a long moment. He doesn't finish his thought, jumping over to a different one instead.]

Would advise against further reconnaissance trips to the tunnels. At least until we've had more time to study.

[He clumsily gropes along the keyboard next. One of those button presses probably manages to post it. Probably.]



[Action]

[Those who thought the darkness was limited to the subterranean levels of Wonderland might be dismayed by a certain scientist's decision to bring a cursed object onto a higher level. Fitz, believing fully that "cursed objects" were silly superstitions, saw nothing wrong with the idea of bringing it topside for testing and discovery. That was before the illness struck. Now, there's just pain. Pain and... some kind of faint melody. It's too distant to make out yet, a soft buzzing at the edge of his thoughts.

After leaving his message, he abandons the lab entirely, with the intent to return to his room on the fourth floor and sleep until the illness breaks on its own. He's underestimated the frequent onsets of mystical pain, though. He'll most likely be a huddled lump of a person curled against a hallway wall, shivering despite a critically high fever.

He'll still argue any "taint" or "curse" talk, though. It's probably nothing that antibiotics can't cure.]

⎊ [Video]

May. 1st, 2016 08:07 am
narcissistictendencies: (You're on the list?)
[personal profile] narcissistictendencies
[The feed opens to Tony's form from about the waist up. His sleeves are rolled up and his left arm is covered in burns that look to be about a week old. He's holding a strange device about eight inches long. It's encased entirely in a shell and seems to have a small domed sensor on top.]

I just wanted to say, if you start seeing these around, it's not a tiny alien invasion, they're sensors. I'm setting them around key locations in the hopes of finding a way to predict these event things. In light of the most recent catastrophe, I think it's only a reasonable step towards surviving something like that again. There has to be something preceding these things, right? Like a low-pressure system before a storm. We get a warning, sure. Sometimes, anyway? Maybe, if we can figure out what causes them or where they're coming from, we can delay or stop them?

[It's... all he's got, okay? He hates feeling like he isn't in control and he hates that people die because of it, even more.]

I'm... [He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, the beginnings of a sleepless headache coming on.] officially out of retirement. Hold the "I told you so"s. You know who you are.
villainously: ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀ (67)
[personal profile] villainously
( this is far from his first "event" in Wonderland, but somehow that doesn't make it any easier. he's seen a lot of demented creatures in his lifetime, that simply happens when you're as old as he is. he's not interested in sticking around to let them gnaw on him, and he's got a very good escape route to get away from the madness. )

Listen. I don't know what these things are, but I'm willing to bet they can't swim. If you can get to the docks, we're taking off in under an hour.

( he doesn't know most of the people trapped here, but he's not heartless. his ship could get rather cramped, but when it's life or death on the line, he'll take anyone who wants the shelter. )

If you damage my ship you'll be fixing it yourself. Worry less about what you're bringing and more about getting here safely.

( that's it, that's the message; he probably won't talk too much to anyone that responds, other than to answer questions. )


ACTION
When the man says an hour, he really means it. As soon as everyone pertinent is aboard, including some individuals he wasn't exactly expecting (a friend of the people he cared about was good enough to grant passage), the ship sets sail. It's easier to get The Jolly Roger moving when there's more than just one person running about her decks. Don't know how to sail? Well, get ready for a crash course lesson, because all hands on deck.

After that, it's more or less a waiting game. There's a barrier to protect the ship and after that, it's up to the people aboard to keep themselves entertained. There's more food than one would expect, between the pirate and the stores people brought along. One can expect to eat, though perhaps not eat well. When it's survival on the line, though, do you have any room to complain?

There's not a great deal to keep one entertained, though. There are hammocks to sleep in in the crew quarters, a deck to walk and places to explore. The captain's quarters are very much so off limits and if he finds you there he'll be displeased. There are a few games, trinkets, things here or there. Maybe you can get some lessons in sailing or swordsmanship while you're aboard... Make the most of it, because it's hard telling how long you'll be stuck on the steadily rocking decks.



( ooc: use this post as desired for ship shenanigans! if you want the pirate involved in an action, please say so in the title! otherwise use it as an open to interact with each other as you see fit. )
circlejerked: (↯ we close and warm)
[personal profile] circlejerked
Um. All right, no one panic, but I may have underestimated these magic closets of ours and accidentally... done something.

[Anders' voice, sounding contrite. In the background, an unremitting stream of noise threatens to drown him out--it's meowing, rising and falling at different pitches like a tone-deaf a cappella group trying to harmonize and failing miserably.

The camera settles unsteadily on the hem of his robes before he sets it down and steps back. The source of the caterwauling then becomes apparent: in his arms are four young cats of various shapes and color, two tucked under each arm.

By the sounds of it, more are audible off-screen. Many, many more.]


I wasn't thinking... Well, I was, I was thinking how much more homey this place would be with a cute cat or two, and then--and then they were just there, and everywhere, and now there are a few more than two. If you have cat allergies, stay off the fourth floor.

[As if on cue, a kitten on stubby legs capers across the floor behind him. Anders, noticing movement on the screen, squints closely for a second, then looks for the real thing over his shoulder.]

One's making a run for it. Alistair! Alistair, catch it, my hands are full.

[From somewhere off among the caterwauling comes a response, the owner appearing shortly after--]

I see it!

[Alistair runs past in the background, two cats under one arm and what is presumably another squirming about down his shirt. He comes back into view a moment later, the escapee cradled in his free hand. Shoving the kitten in Anders' face--where it proceeds to bat at his nose--he frowns at the other man.]

This is getting ridiculous. We can't keep track of all of them. Is anyone coming to-- Ow!

[The yelp comes as the squirming under his shirt grows more energetic and with a slightly panicked look Alistair disappears from view again, kittens in tow. The only hint as to his fate comes as an increase in the mewling and the sound of fabric ripping mercifully out of sight.]

I'm getting to that part!

[Anders stares after him, eyebrows drawn up in alarm, before dragging his eyes back to the camera.]

Uhhh, it's okay, everything's fine, we have things completely under control, but as you can tell, we're in possession of some cats who could use a loving home! Soft, furry cats! Adorable, see? They're domesticated, easy to care for, and make excellent house pets. That one doesn't appear to be a fan of Alistair's shirt, but some are more fashion conscious than others.

I don't know if I can take care of them all. If you'd like to take one, we'll be giving them away free of charge in the ballroom. First floor, you can't miss it!
[Anders then points a finger sternly, though the effect is mitigated by the wide-eyed kittens holding onto his arm.] But no funny business. If you consider cats a delicacy, I'm warning you now, we're both heavily armed. People wanting to make mittens out of their fur need not apply.

(OOC: Come find the log over here!)

( video )

Mar. 21st, 2016 11:47 am
cabalistically: (11)
[personal profile] cabalistically
[ The video starts with an elf centered in the frame. He’s bald and dressed in armor that’s mostly ornate metal, burnished golden scales, and a large pelt of some furry animal. There’s no fear in his eyes or confusion. If he’s affected by his arrival, he certainly doesn’t act like it. His expression is calm and confident. His voice, when he speaks, is measured and soft. ]

Wonderland, I've heard it called. [ There's the slightest uptick at the corner of his mouth, as though he's gently amused by the name. ] Yet I question the truth of that claim.

[ His eyebrow arches in what appears to be curiosity, the movement made more obvious by his lack of hair. ]

To whom is this place meant to wondrous? And why? Is it the prevalence of magic?

[ There’s a dryness lingering in his voice as he asks that last question, as though he’s wholly unimpressed by what he’s found. His neutral expression doesn’t change, but the dryness remains. Solas is not impressed, though admittedly, he might be anywhere, witnessing wonders untold and still find them lacking against the glory of his precious Arlathan. ]

I fear I’ve seen marvels far more astonishing than this communication device. [ His voice shifts, becoming faintly criticizing. As though the place has disappointed him. ] What of the rest of you? How do you find your accommodations?
ttlynotabloodmage: (hey what's that over there?)
[personal profile] ttlynotabloodmage
[When the video comes to life it's clear that it's not an intentional recording but one of the many stationary wall mounted devices scattered around the mansion flickering on, perhaps to notify those watching that someone is poking around the bedroom levels.

The someone in question turns out to be a decidedly scruffy looking man who looks like he'd need the concept of 'bathing' explained to him, possibly with pictures. There's dirt and grime and something that may or may not be blood caked on his robes and he creeps more than walks through the hallways, almost like he's expecting someone to catch him in the act at any moment.

The nervousness may have something to do with how he's trying the doors as he goes, largely finding locked ones but eventually one opens and he jerks back in surprise. Perhaps it's an empty, unclaimed room, or perhaps it's someone's who didn't think to lock the door on their way out. Either way, Jowan cautiously pokes his head into the room and stares around wide-eyed at it all.]


Maker, a bed! I know none of this is real, but still... if I'm going to die in a dream, then at least it's a good dream. It'd be better if there was something to eat...

[A thought occurs to him and Jowan glances back over his shoulder, down the hallway he'd come from.]

If this is a manor or something, maybe there's a kitchen? I can't imagine food in the Fade is going to help me much but at least it might taste good.

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