JUNE 1ST - 3RD | AFTER THE ACCIDENT |
There was an accident. The details are hazy and obscure, but it's still the first thing you remember. Maybe a car wreck — metal and broken glass everywhere, and the sirens and the
screaming. Maybe your bike hit a rock and you careened uncontrollably off a mountain path. Maybe something less mundane, even impossible seems to have happened to you. You can't quite make out the details, not who was at fault or why. Try as you might, the chaos is all you can truly remember.
It's also the
last thing you remember from before waking up.
When you open your eyes, the accident is gone, replaced with white sterility. Perhaps somewhat alarming at first, until you blink at your surroundings and realize that you're in a hospital bed. You try to move but are sluggish, covered in a scattering of minor injuries you only vaguely remember receiving, not to mention the possibility of the partially healed remnants of other, seemingly older wounds.
It's a shame you won't be able to tell the difference between the two. Your memories are an indiscernible fog where they're not absent altogether, only a few standing out in your mind with any kind of certainty.
If the room happens to be empty when you wake, it's not for long. Nurses bustle in, taking your vitals and asking your name and anything else you might remember. Don't worry, they tell you. You'll make a full recovery here. Much of what you say (especially anything unusual, anything about monsters or magic or outlandish technology) will earn placating speculation of head trauma from the accident. You'll be told to stay put, not to push yourself, and to wait for the doctor to clear you before you leave.
Then you'll be left alone. Or maybe you'll find yourself visited by loved ones: family, or friends. You've lived here much or all of your life, so of course you have those things. Of course they already remember you being here, and may remember visiting you in the hospital while you were still unconscious.
Either way, the hospital's population is quadruple the usual, and you get the impression the nurses are working themselves ragged just running damage control. You might hear talk around the hospital of other small population spikes over the past few days, though many patients appeared to be well enough to be released the same day, and the same might be said of you. Or at least the staff doesn't seem to be too concerned. You can even leave your room without much fuss, any doctor or nurse that might try to intercept you getting called away almost immediately to deal with something even more pressing.
Of course, it's not so unusual to settle in until you're discharged, either. You may choose to wait for loved ones to come pick you up, even speak to your fellow patients, whether roommates or others wandering the halls. The more enterprising and suspicious might even consider it an opportunity to poke around for a few basic answers.
JUNE 1ST - 4TH | GETTING USED TO HOME AGAIN |
However you get there, outside the birds sing a joyful song, and though the air is just a bit crisp, the sky's as sunny as you've ever seen it. It's bright enough to make you squint for a moment before you feast your eyes on the quaint little mountain town of Wayward Pines, though that might just be some sort of side effect from your accident. Trees line the street at regular intervals, carefully manicured and slightly waterlogged from the recent flood. Cars cruise by at a safe and respectable speed. Fellow pedestrians spare you glances, some wary, others concerned or just friendly. It probably depends on how clothed you were when you left the hospital.
This isn't even the picturesque city center, though a colorful nearby sign reads "
Main Street" with an arrow pointing due south, followed in smaller font by a list of businesses you don't recognize (could be a good direction to head in, though — maybe it'll jog your memory), and one that you might: Wayward Pines Sheriff's Department. You've likely caught wind by now that any clothing or other items you had on you at the time of your accident are being held by the Sheriff until you're well enough to claim them. Not to mention the keys to your home, kept locked and safe at the station for you. That should probably be your next stop, though if anything's missing in what they hand over you'd be the last to know.
It's time to get home, to recover from your ordeal and try to sort through your memories. Do you remember this house, the pictures of family on the walls and how to navigate to the bathroom in the middle of the night? Maybe it's easier with loved ones living with you, helping you get settled, or maybe you're on your own. Either way, over the next few days it's a good idea to try to remember your routines, to get out and finally visit Main Street if you haven't already. Maybe you even remembered that you work in one of the more familiar sounding shops, or elsewhere in town. Makes sense they'd give you some time off to recover and get reacclimated to your life here, but eventually you should probably get back to work. You haven't seen your co-workers in a few days, and besides, you have to be able to put bread on the table.
JUNE 5TH | GLUG GLUG'S GRAND OPENING! |
Town hall is listening, and town hall has heard you loud and clear (their surveillance equipment is of the highest quality, after all). While there appears to have been some... clerical issues and red tape concerning the highest voted name, when the fifth rolls around the newly completed and lovingly anointed
Glug Glug's opens its doors to the public for the official grand opening!
For an old diner, this place has undergone an amazing transformation, with a ground, second, and basement floor all open to the public and offering a wide variety of entertainment options within:
The ground floor features a long bar along one wall where one can order coffee, tea, soda, hot chocolate, whatever your little caffeinated heart desires, as well as alcoholic drinks 10% or under — provided you can show some form of ID, of course. Linda, perched at the bar with a mimosa in hand, will tell anyone who listens that
she voted for Pubby McPubface, but honestly, who's listening to Linda, anyway? Pastries and small appetizers are also available at half price for the special event, and card and board games make inviting and colorful centerpieces on the tables scattered around the room (there are classics like Monopoly and the rousing game of Jenga in the corner, amongst less common fare you
may not have played before, like Cards Against Humanity and Settlers of Catan).
A lounge on the second floor overlooks the ground floor and features plush couches and chairs, ambient lighting and a pleasant, relaxing atmosphere to contrast with the low buzz of activity below. A small balcony out back provides a peaceful, quiet view of some of the very pines after which our town was named.
The basement is where anyone interested will find music, dance, billiards and booze. A small stage on one end features regular local live performances, with a vast stretch of the room devoted to a dance floor and just a few private booths set into the wall around the edges. The bar down here serves the harder stuff to those that can prove they're old enough to be handling it, and one corner of the room is devoted to a billiards table and two large pinball machines.
Technically the basement level is open to all ages, but getting down there requires showing your ID and getting your hand stamped, and anyone under 16 is
highly encouraged to be accompanied by an adult. And, of course, anyone caught sneaking drinks to minors will be summarily kicked out, as well as reported to Sheriff Griffith for a good talking to about, you know, civic duty and such. It's honestly not worth it, you
know how he goes on.
Today is supposed to be a party after all, let's not spoil it just yet.
MOD NOTES
Welcome to our fifth mingle log for newbies and oldbies alike!
This log is meant to cover characters' first five days in Wayward Pines. Characters for this round will appear staggered in the hospital between the
1st and the
3rd, and a CR building event will occur on the
5th, after everyone has had a suitable amount of time to get settled in town. For the most part, only the five memories detailed in your character's application are remembered throughout the duration of this log, although their false Wayward Pines memories may also begin to surface (in those who've opted to utilize this mechanic) as the week wears on. These memories, as noted in the FAQ, feel very real and are accompanied by as much emotion or sentiment as a real memory would be.
PLEASE INCLUDE IN SUBJECT LINE:
Character Name,
date,
location, and
Open or
Closed, to help keep things organized and make your character easy to find.
If you have any questions regarding this intro log, feel free to ask them on the FAQ or the relevant plurk.
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pineslog2017-05-31 09:13 pm
INTRODUCTION LOG
applause
Sure. Fancy yourself any good?
[ Not that it matters to Henry any, but he likes to gauge an opponent's level even before the game begins. ]
couldn't help it, man
[ He grins as he comment, because it's partially true. He doesn't know, but he's pretty sure he knows. It's nerdery at its finest but overall it's math and skill and he knows he's got those. Not in question. Is he in shape, though? That's to be determined. ]
What about you?
B^)
I might be quite average. If anything, I'm the perfect baseline to compare your skills to.
[ He starts fishing out the stray balls from the pockets, letting them roll lazily across the felt. ]
no subject
[ He starts working around the opposite end of the table to retrieve the rest before he turns and grabs a cue for himself. He leans on it, watching the leftover movement before he looks back up to Henry. ]
You want break, or...? Hey look, I remember how to play. That's a good sign.
no subject
We're on a roll, aren't we? I've got the basics of the game down, now to get the muscle memory going—
[ Taking the plastic triangle, he settles it over the pile and shuffles them gently. The sound of hard resin clacking gently against each other is strangely comforting, in a nostalgic sort of way. Like watching a good movie and immersing one's self into a gritty noir scene. He slides the triangle off,
hanging it on a nearby hook. ]
I'll break.
[ And without really waiting for much of an answer, he sets the cue ball down on the green. Then with deliberate thoughtfulness, weaves the tip of the pool cue through his two fingers, resting them there comfortably. Then he slides the stick back and forth, rhythmically, with an uneven beat. It's a process, really. The chalky blue tip lines up neatly with the white ball, and with a sharp thrust of his arm, he sends the ball crashing into the others. The crash is dramatic, but despite all the flair, not a single ball goes into a socket. ]
no subject
[ His comment is meant to be humorous, entertained by the lack of any immediate impact into the game once the set is broken. He circles around the table for a moment while eyeing the potential shots for himself. ]
Are we calling? [ That seems like the thing to do. Maybe he doesn't remember as much as he should but he's good at pretending, anyway. ] Either way, stripe in the corner pocket.
[ He shifts, aligning himself and preparing for the shot. Left-handed, little awkward for where the table is placed but he deals. Bam! Going, going... and it bumps right off the edge of it, a near-miss. ]
no subject
Oof, looks like we're both terrible. Suppose you have a better excuse though, what with being a lefty.
[ The drink he brought along with him is finally given some attention as he takes a swig, looking for a solid color to sink. ]
no subject
What, you think lefty is a disadvantage?
Let's see if the second shot's any better.
no subject
[ Though he supposes one could say for a right-handed person trying to hit a ball that's way more suited for a lefty. He gets behind a shot that seems a little tricky: the ball needs to hit the wall at an angle to get into a corner pocket. ]
Corner pocket.
[ He shoots- and this time, he scores. It almost seems flawless, so much that even Henry draws back in mild surprise. ]
Well. How unexpected.
no subject
[ He reaches over to clap him on the back and moves to observe the new arrangement on the table. Pauses, inspects it, then looks back up. ]
Your move again, isn't it? See if you can't keep that up.
Choose Your Own Adventure
Careful, you might bring out the brutally competitive nature in me.
[ Not that he thinks he is, but there is that bit of need to win. He hits the cue ball again, lining it up in seemingly easy fashion. One feint, two feint...crack!]
the best kind of adventure.
[ It doesn't phase him, anyway. He watches as the ball rockets into another one and rushes across the table, only to glance off the wall and lose its momentum and trajectory. It's close, though. ]
That's a shame. Saw what you were doing there.
[ He moves, studies the whole field himself. Takes position and he's going for the easy shot right now to test himself more than trying to play it up for the sake of the game. Just lines it up and goes for it. ]
no subject
[ He grins. So much for the confident words. He tries not to wince too obviously as the ball ricochets off the wall and gives him zero points. Shrugging, he takes a step back to watch. ]
So, what's your story? Or at least what you recall of it, anyway.
[ The easy shot garners an easy point, and Henry watches the cue ball line up a little awkwardly behind the eight ball. A high angle shot would suffice to try and separate them... ]
no subject
[ He pauses, frowning over the next shot. Waits a moment and then sighs. ]
There's way more than that but that's the most recent. Easiest to recall. You?
no subject
Family brought me here, too... or the current lack of them, to be more specific. The wife left me and took the little one, then I came here. Can't say for sure I know why, but, logic tells me it was probably an attempt at soul-searching.
[ A wry laugh, watching the ball intently. ]
no subject
[ Henry could have gone to become a monk or something, after all. ]
Sorry about your little one.
[ He shoots, intent to get something in this time. Push the game along in case Henry doesn't want to talk about what else he remembers. ]
no subject
Quite all right. I'm sure her mother is doing her best by her.
[ The ball eases to a stop, right at the rim of the side pocket. A breath could knock it over. So close, buddy. ]
Well, one thing's for sure. We sure weren't championship pool players at any point in our lives.