( february intro ) WELCOME TO THE PINES!

[officialnotice]

INTRODUCTION LOG

waking up

There was an accident. That's basically the only thing you know for certain. Maybe a car wreck - metal and broken glass everywhere, and the sirens and the screaming. Or maybe there was an explosion. Maybe your bike hit a rock and you careened uncontrollably off a mountain path. You can't can't quite make out the details, not who was at fault or why. Try as you might, the chaos is all you can remember.

It's also the last thing you remember from before you wake up here.

When you open your eyes, the accident is gone. Instead, you're in a hospital bed. You're sluggish, covered in a scattering of minor injuries you only vaguely remember getting, not to mention the vaguely-healed remnants of any wounds you might've had before.

It's a shame you won't be able to tell the difference between the two. Your memories are an indiscernible fog if not absent altogether, only a few standing out in your mind with any kind of certainty.

Whether or not the room's 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. Welcome to Wayward Pines, 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. The hospital's population is quadruple the usual, and you get the impression the nurses are working themselves ragged just running damage control. You can even leave your room without much fuss - whichever doctor or nurse intercepts you gets called away almost immediately to deal with something even more pressing.

Mingle, visit your fellow patients, even poke around for a few basic answers. Or maybe, maybe just stroll right on out the front door.

heading outside

Outside, the birds sing a joyful song, and though the air is awfully crisp to be wandering around in your hospital gown, 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 town of Wayward Pines, though that might be in part because of the glare off the scattered patches of snow along the sides of the street.

Trees line the street at regular intervals, carefully manicured. Cars cruise by at a safe and respectable speed. Pedestrians spare you glances, some wary and some concerned.

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 and one that you might: Wayward Pines Police Department. Whether you asked for yourself or simply overheard, you've likely caught wind by now that all of your earthly possessions now lie with the Sheriff until you see fit to claim them.

Might as well head that way, right?

items reclaimed

So you've visited the Wayward Pines Police Department and reclaimed... well. Most of your stuff, anyway, though you can't quite remember what's missing. Best to put it out of mind, as you head down the steps toward the Main Street sidewalk. At the very least, pedestrians have stopped looking at you like you're sick or crazy. (Then again, depending on what you're wearing, maybe it's gotten worse.)

The sheriff also forked over what looks like the key to a house ("A cozy place to stay while you're here in town."), plus the address that it belongs to. You could check it out, see what kind of digs they're putting you up in.

Or you could stick around Main Street and sight-see a little. Also a perfectly viable option. Hell, maybe it'll jog your memory a little. A few of the shops do feel inexplicably familiar...

( ooc notes )

Welcome to the first newbie mingle log! We apologize for the minor delay.

This log is meant to cover characters' first day in Wayward Pines. For the most part, only the five memories detailed in your character's application are remembered throughout the duration of this log, although the first couple of false Wayward Pines memories might begin to surface (in those who've opted to utilize this mechanic) as the day 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.

Any questions about the log or its contents can be addressed to our FAQ or the intro log's designated Plurk.

Comments

[overfivethousand]

[That's it. A bunch of pieces in his head, and none of them are connecting. None of them explain why he feels so uncomfortable in his own skin, why his hands feel empty, why he keeps watching the horizon and the people that occasionally walk by like he's expecting them to be somebody else. It's frustrating.

He looks over at Noah, offers a small, quick twitch of his lips that might be a smile if you tilt your head to the side and pretend real hard.]

Ten Thousand. I remember my friends call me 10K, but that's about it. Weird, huh?

[smudging]

10K?

[ Noah nodded slowly -- and inwardly he thinks that Ten Thousand is a much cooler name than Noah Czerny -- searching his own mind for some kind of memories of his own friends. He can remember being around them, but their faces, names, and voices are ones he can't seem to grasp a hold of. ]

How'd you get that name?

[ Because he assumes it's some sort of nickname. ]

[overfivethousand]

I--

[It's right there. He knows he chose it for himself, knows there's a reason behind it. But what reason? Why would he choose a number instead of a name, instead of Thomas, or Jeff? There's a reason, and for once he's not sure he wants to remember it.]

I think I gave it to myself. Pretty sure there's a good reason, but right now it's pretty much anyone's guess. Maybe that'll come back, too. If not--I don't know, guess I can always choose a new one. Right?

[smudging]

[ Noah's never really entertained the idea that someone could just pick their own name -- even someone picking their own nickname was sometimes a gamble, they weren't always guaranteed to stick. -- he'd been Noah Czerny for as long as he could remember, and while he wouldn't say that Noah was his favorite name in the world (he's actually never stopped to think about what his favorite name would be. Was that even something that the normal person had?), it hadn't ever occurred to him to change it. ]

Maybe you just thought it was cool. [ He's joking, a slightly amused look on his face despite the fact that his tone remains nonchalant. His humor chord is one that doesn't always strike with 100% accuracy. ]

What would you pick for your new name?

[overfivethousand]

[Of course you can. Names are just words, right? Don't have to mean anything. He's sure his means something, though, he just...isn't sure what. But he also doesn't have to think about the answer to Noah's question, either.]

Jeff. I always liked the name Jeff.

[He blinks then, lifting a hand to rub at his hair again, adjusting the goggles perched on his head.]

I dunno. I think 10K is supposed to mean something. I think I'm counting something. I just...can't remember what. Maybe that's weird, too. I'm really hoping all this stuff starts coming back, you know?

[smudging]

Jeff?

[ Noah rolls the name over in his head a few times, trying to remember if he's ever known another Jeff -- which is something of a useless task, considering there's very little he remembers. He's lucky that he remembers his own name, much less the ones of others.

(He knows for a fact that there's names he can't remember, though. People that are nothing more than faceless shapes in his memory.) ]

Jeff isn't as cool as 10K. [ He pauses a beat, letting out a short laugh. ] No offense, or anything. [ He starts packing all of his things back into the messenger bag. Whatever it is that he's missing, he's not going to remember it by going through his bag over and over again. ]

It's really weird, right? A whole bunch of us are in some kind of "accident" [ A pause long enough to make use of air quotes. ] but nobody remembers it, or anything else. Coincidence, right? [ There's a few people giving him strange looks by this point and Noah lowers his voice just slightly. ] There's something not right about this place, you know?

[overfivethousand]

[That gets another smile, this one warmer, a little lopsided and not quite self-conscious.] Yeah, I guess. I mean, Ten Thousand does have a kinda ring to it, right?

[The smile fades, and he rubs the slingshot in his back pocket, chewing absently on his lower lip.]

Yeah. Or, I mean I guess they could all be different accidents, but...I don't know.

[He glances back over his shoulder towards the sheriff's office, swearing for a second he sees swinging blinds. Probably not safe to talk here, especially. He's seen the signs around town, in the hospital. Instead, he turns to Noah, again reaching for that phantom strap on his shoulder and speaking just a little louder than he has to.]

I don't know, they've been really nice here. Gave us houses to stay in and everything. I'm going to try and find the place, you want to walk with me? [And maybe talk carefully about just how weird this whole set-up is? Because even if he can't remember anything real, he knows something is wrong. It has to be.]