INTRO LOG #1

[collectedmods]

INTRO LOG #1

Welcome to Collected’s first Intro Log! The information we’ve provided about the setting is not exhaustive - feel free to interact with the setting as you see fit. Rather than have specific prompts, our event posts throughout the game will generally have information listed out like this and players may come up with their own prompts.

If you have questions about the setting or the intro log, please ask them HERE in the comment thread! And most of all, have fun, shoppers.

PROMPTS

The first thing anyone does is gasp for air.

It’ll feel like the first breath you’ve taken in years. That’s right; before you can even become aware of your surroundings, the most immediate thing they’ll process is that you’re in water. Foul smelling water - like rotten eggs and decay. It’s pitch black, and you’re swimming in it with only your head above the surface. If the smell doesn’t deter you, the longer you stay in will; the water stings to have on your skin, chemical in nature.

So - you need to get out. This water can’t be okay to stay in. Once you’ve gathered enough about your surroundings, you’ll see that you’re inside a mall, of sorts. There’s a large (non-functioning) escalator in front of you that will lead you to the semi-safe havens of the second floor - but be careful, because everyone’s going to be gunning for that only exit.

» Once on the second floor, exploring will lead you to a few notes of interest: Long windows and tall glass doors show the conditions outside. The sky is a burnt orange, and there is a thick sort of fog on the horizon. Nothing for miles in every direction - just an empty parking lot, completely devoid of life or any sign that anyone has come across this place in many years. Even so, you’ll find the windows and doors unlocked, so getting outside is easy… the problem is what’s out there.

A trip outside will make it instantly clear why you see no life outside the mall’s walls: exposure to the radioactive sun outside causes your skin to bubble with welts, and the thick, toxic air of the outside is impossible to inhale without keeling over. It’s blistering hot, too. Even non-organic creatures would melt or be eroded by the sun’s radioactive qualities. One thing is abundantly obvious: you cannot survive outside. Not now, at least. Those who receive a burn or other damage from the conditions outside will discover that strangely enough, upon returning inside the mall, the wound begins to heal up on its own. Slowly, and extremely painfully, but it’s healing. That’s strange…

» Another thing of note is that there’s a food court on the second floor. There, you’ll find a variety of abandoned restaurants that have varying amounts of non-perishables inside - canned vegetables and preserved meats, as well as dusty old jars of sauces and the like. There are a few walk-in freezers with hefty locks on them, but if the locks are broken or picked, there’s actually some frozen rations, as well! Many of them are not labelled, so the dining experience will be pretty hit or miss. None of the stoves or cooking appliances in the food court work anymore, either, so you’ll have to get creative when it comes to cooking up these ingredients. (Or just, you know, eat them cold.)

» Throughout the mall’s bathrooms, water fountains, and gym showers, you’ll find that all the water in the mall is suspiciously clean. Like, way too clean to be normal in a place as run-down and clearly abandoned as this. You’ll find that toilets flush completely fine, and shower water heats up (eventually). Should you be grateful, or concerned?

» There’s an electronics store on the second floor, as well, along with a internet cafe. Should you try to turn on the computers in the internet cafe, you’ll find that it only opens to the same forum page: a site called Mall Watch. It’ll prompt you to make an account and password if you try posting to it. In the electronics store, you’ll also find that any phone you forage for and try to boot up will also only open up to this forum page. Weird!

» If you’re looking for a place to sleep, the department stores of the mall still have a variety of furniture sets collecting a lot of dust. Then again, no one’s around to tell you where to sleep - and maybe you don’t trust all these new faces you arrived with. If you’re okay sleeping on the floor of a random store, more power to you.

» You’ll probably want to do something about your clothes that were stained by the black water on the first floor.. try foraging for some clothes! Looking around, you’ll find that some clothes stores have some stock left over, though everything’s generally a mess in clothing stores - it’ll take you some time to find anything that’ll fit you. Looking around enough on this second floor, you might end up stumbling across some of your own belongings or clothing, or those of your peers.

More than anything, the longer you explore and scavenge the mall, you’ll recognize how eerily silent it is. If not for you and your peers here, this place would be totally desolate. Clearly, there’s no one around for miles, and as far as you can tell, you’ll only be able to survive here for as long as the supplies here last. No one’s coming to save you - no one even knows you’re here. In every sense of the word, you are alone.

For now.



NAVIGATION

Comments

azula | a:tla

[firelords]

( i ) thrift shop

( a )

⟪ even to an outsider, azula doesn’t look particularly put together. maybe it’s the very recent do-it-yourself-haircut, the smeared make-up, or the fact that she’s clearly been crying quite recently. there’s something erratic about the way she sifts through the clothes, here, in what she thinks must once have been a shop, before… whatever happened here came to pass.

she goes through the rack more than once, expectations lowered each time. the heavy, red tunic she wears is soaked even where it isn’t stained black, as if she’s recently been fully submerged in water, and at her feet, there are the pieces of her royal armour made efficiently useless, the metal corroded where the black muck downstairs had touched it. ⟫

All of this is useless.

⟪ said more to herself than to her company, as she tries to find a shirt that is at least ‘wearable’, even if ‘whole’ doesn’t seem to be an option. ⟫

( b )

⟪ later, once she has fitted herself with clothes that aren't soaked in stinking black 'water’, she's digging through what used to be a bargain bin (not that she'd know what a bargain bin is). clothes are off her mind now, though, because earlier, she's come across a gold pin, now safely stored in her pocket, and a ring with a strange symbol on it. too large for her fingers, but that's not really the point: the point is that it's pretty solid and she reckons if she has to punch someone, she better do it with her ring hand. ⟫

Knife!

⟪ the word escapes her, triumphant, as she pulls it from the bin –– only to recognise it immediately. could be a trick of the light, but maybe her hands are shaking as she takes it out of the sheath, reads the inscription, slides it back in. it's not just anyone's knife. ⟫

---

( ii ) paranormal radioactivity

It looks like the comet.

⟪ she sounds awed, even though she knows it’s just the sun that stains the sky orange here. she knows it in her bones, in her blood, in every fibre of her being that is no longer set alight by sozin’s comet. what does this mean? she knows she’s far from home, if she would even dare say she has a home to return to. surely, her father will be finished with the earth kingdom soon. what will he say when he returns to the palace? she might have been defeated. it hadn't looked great, less great now at a distance, even. if that water peasant can heal her brother, she’ll have nothing to weigh against her shame.

and if she can’t? if he’s dead? she’s killed him. isn’t that what she’s always been meant to do?

golden eyes sharpen, clear, focus on whoever’s closest. ⟫

Have you been out there yet?

⟪ maybe you're just looking out the way she is. but it’s… entirely possible that you did, in fact, just use the door right there without her even paying much attention. azula’s had quite the coronation day and this is not what peak performance looks like. ⟫

---

( iii ) home sweet hell mall

( a )

⟪ one of the mall’s many shops used to sell jewellery. azula has chosen this one for her humble abode for two reasons: one, against her initial assumptions, currency (and by extension, precious metals and gems) were not useful resources, and thus, likely to be ignored, and two, even if someone’s particularly thirsty for the stuff, there’s nothing much left in here anyway that hasn’t been corroded to bits.

there aren’t really many obvious signs of life here: in front of the counter, someone had lit a fire at some point, and left a nasty burn stain on the floor. the mirrors have been smashed to bits – but that could have been done ages ago, unless someone overheard her last night.

if you’re noisy, likely to step on broken glass, or openly calling to see if someone’s there, she’ll poke her head out from behind the counter and glare: ⟫

What do you want?

( b )

⟪ if you’re particularly stealthy, though, and assuming that it’s just you, maybe some item you’re looking for, and some badly damaged store equipment, you might actually make it all the way behind the counter. right beneath the sales desk used to be a space for storage, maybe even a safe at one point, but now, it’s been claimed in the name of the fire nation – congratulations, you’ve found the spot where azula curls up to sleep, surrounded by her possessions and covered in a red cloth that is, actually, her own coronation cloak.

bit of a shitty awakening though, because she’ll snap out of her light sleep pretty much immediately and hurl the first thing at the ‘intruder’ she can think of: don’t worry, it’s just a rock.

for now. fire’s going to be the next step, so you might want to be a little less right inside her ‘bedroom’. ⟫

---

( wildcard )

⟪ fuck me up!! would you like a more specific starter? do you have something in mind? hit me up and we’ll figure a thing out! ⟫

& lottie

[firelords]

⟪ in terms of finds, it shouldn't really excite her. between a ring that's big enough to count as a minor weapon and, of course, her brother's knife, she should be looking for more things to arm herself with.

actually, she should be looking into building up a stock of all kinds of resources, but she's only edging towards that realisation. for now? for now, she found presumably the last thing she needs: a makeup kit.

and no matter how aware she is that this isn't the indulgence she ought to focus on right now, there's something thought-absorbing about going through the things inside. soft brushes, strange, spongy things, eyeshadow in the wildest shades, kohl-black ink brushes that aren't... quite ink brushes. she tests some of the colours on her forearm, drawn particularly to the reds.

the highlight (haha), however, is a glittering substance. for a moment, she thinks it shines all by itself, and she tries stripes of it on her still-free arm, holding a small flame in the palm of her hand to let the paint-powder reflect the light. amazing.

please interrupt her before she gets the bright idea to try and paint her face without a mirror. ⟫

[oomfies]

Hey!

[ Comes Lottie strained cry for attention, because someone (a teeny, tiny.. Child?! Teen, probably? Her demographic??) is putting their fingers in the palettes that she uses for her eyes. And while Azula has a good eye for swatches, and she may be conjuring.. Flames (a teenager in her demographic who is.. A magician?), the first thing that comes out of her mouth is - ]

Are your hands clean?

[ Instead of saying something normal like, 'Hey, that's my makeup! I need it back so I don't look trashy on the daily, thanks!'.. She says that. ]

Did you wash your hands??

[firelords]

I am royalty.

⟪ She says, sitting criss-cross applesauce on the mall floor and covering 'her' newfound possession with one hand, drawing it just a little closer to her body. You know, like a gremlin would. ⟫

Do you know how long it took to get that black sludge out from under my nails? It's servant work and I did it anyway.

⟪ Because she doesn't need anyone! Also, she had the hands of a professional sitar player before this, so how dare anyone suggest anything contrary.

Not that she's played the sitar since her mother vanished and she was no longer forced into regular music lessons. That's not the point! ⟫

[oomfies]

[ Lottie does not believe that. At all. And she figures she doesn't need to use words to convey that, only the judgemental raise of her brows and the look in her eyes. ]

Probably just as long as mine did?

[ She brings up a hand to show off her long (extremely impractical) set of nails. Pastel and dipped in glitter, probably the only pristine thing about Lottie, at the moment. ]

Look, thank you. I appreciate that you did.. Servant work. But that's mine!

[ She deliberately points one of those manicured fingers towards the kit held in Azula's grubby paws, an expectant gaze thrown her way that says hand it over. ]

[firelords]

Is it?

⟪ A princess may be entitled to everything she wants, of course, so it would not technically be theft –– but she does hold herself to some standards. Murder: fine-ish, sometimes you gotta. Theft: not really, no.

She's visibly unhappy about it, though. ⟫

Fine.

⟪ She'll still open the next little box, and shut it again quickly enough as she spots the little travel mirror pasted on its inside. Nope. ⟫

How do your nails shine like that?

⟪ Glitter: a new and revolutionary concept. ⟫ So much of this does, too.

IA

[teaserving]

[Well, Azula isn't the only one that's hunting for clothes at this point. Abbacchio has some that he's snagged, but it doesn't hurt to look for more. Honestly, he's not surprised that someone else is here doing the same.

He arches a brow at her. The clothing is kind of weird, but considering the company Abbacchio usually keeps he has no real place to judge fashion choices.]

Something specific you're looking for?

[firelords]

None of these shops carry armour.

⟪ And we all know that body armour is a girl's best friend. She eyes him suspiciously – he's tall, built like a fighter of sorts. Risky business, but he doesn't seem overly intend on starting something. ⟫

So anything that isn't all holes would be good.

⟪ She sounds pretty drained. Granted, she's spent most of the day entirely out of her mind and been transported into a different place. Possibly time. ⟫

You live here? ⟪ Eyes narrowed, suspicion increasing. ⟫

[teaserving]

[Armor. Who the hell does she think she is?]

I'm pretty sure you're not gonna find much armor in a place like this, ragazza. So you might have to patch up what you have if you're set on it. You might find something for paint balling in a sports store, but I wouldn't hold my breath.

[The question, though, makes him bark out a laugh.]

Nobody who's here lives here. That, I'm confident in.

[firelords]

⟪ She gives the armour at her feet a glance. First of all, here's some scratches from where she took a rough fall during the Agni Kai. But none of it compares to what the black water had done to the metal parts. That one's beyond her ability to fix. ⟫

What's paint balling? ⟪ And, because she can't decide if 'ragazza' is an insult or not, she's adding: ⟫ Mall Man.

⟪ Creativity? Not her strong suit. ⟫

[teaserving]

It's a sport. People shoot paint balls at each other. It hurts, so people wear padding or armor. 'Bout the closest you're gonna find here, brat.

[He looks at a leather vest and tilts his head. Kind of musty smelling, but he'll take it over the remains of his old clothes, so he drapes it over his arm.]

So. Armor's your usual line of fashion?

3B

[aufsassig]

[Schuldig's not so much looking to pillage as he is just being nosy as hell, because these are new surroundings and unprecedented times and it's not like he's got anything the hell better to do this afternoon, anyway. The idea of a jewelry store raises some interesting questions, though; if this mall went down because of looting, for example, there'd definitely be evidence of the smashing and grabbing here. Small, portable, expensive things to ransack? Sure, that's just human nature.

He's figuring on finding some broken glass, which he does. He's not figuring on finding a girl camping out underneath the desk, but he sure as hell finds that as well.

And then a rock very nearly finds his face, hurled from down thataway. It's only the fact that his reflexes are a lot better than an average person's that saves him from an impromptu broken nose; in the blink of an eye, he zips a few feet to the side, letting the stone clatter harmlessly against one of the displays behind him.

Oh, look at that. A small, feral girl. Not the girl he's half expecting to find around here, but a girl nevertheless.]

Hey, hey! Easy. I just didn't see you down there.

[He raises his hands in the universal sign of parley, palms out and smile easy.]

No need to get defensive. I was just looking around.

[firelords]

⟪ She rolls out from under her hideout and jumps into a defensive stance, though it's immediately obvious that she's just disoriented enough to not attack immediately. She felts stiff and uncomfortable, which isn't usually how her royal chambers make her feel – and then she takes in her surroundings, the broken glass, the desolate walls. Right. The mall. That had happened.

Her eyes are still wild when she focuses on him, and she doesn't lower her hands. ⟫

Who are you?

⟪ She scans him for weapons, signs of aggression. ⟫

[aufsassig]

[She's older than Nagi and decidedly less...everything than Farfarello, but once you've dealt with one (two) overpowered and hilariously unstable teens on a regular basis, it sort of gets to be like riding a bike. This one seems more on the Farfarello side of things — inclined to be the first to lash out rather than going on the defensive from the get-go — so that at least gives him an idea of a place to start with not getting his head taken off.]

Just a guy. My name's not really important.

[She's definitely agitated, even afraid; he can feel her thoughts like a hurricane, fierce and chaotic. Definitely a Farfarello type, just without all the religious fervor. The kind of person who needs a "no sudden movements" sort of response.

His eyes track briskly over her cloak, the ragged mess of her hair. Slowly, with his hands still raised, he lowers himself down into a crouch, and then takes a seat outright on the floor.]

What about you, princess? You got a name?

[firelords]

⟪ Here is what she's thinking: this is power play. His refusal to give a name was one thing – there's all kinds of reasons for that, and who knows who (or what) he's hiding from. But to identify her as the princess and then pretending not to know her name?

It has to be some form of power play.

Problem with the assessment is that he's sat himself down, hands raised and non-threatening. ⟫

The title will do.

⟪ Slowly, she forces herself to relax, at least enough to no longer look like she's ready to give him hell. ⟫

Why so secretive?

[aufsassig]

[...Wait, is she — is she serious. Is she serious or is she fucking with him, he tosses out an idle pet name and she's acting like that's a legitimate title? There's no possible way this is serious. She's got to just have a sense of humor drier than the Sahara desert.]

Wouldn't you be? Surrounded by strangers, with no idea about who's trustworthy and who's not?

[He cocks his head slightly, gauging her expression, then adds: ]

People who are careless deserve what they get, don't they?

ii !!

[ultimatums]

For a couple seconds, yeah.

[ It was a few hours ago at this point, but his arms are healing more quickly than he'd expected, although it still hurts like a son of a bitch. He's already feeling a little stir crazy, so he'd come to a stop just sort of staring outside at the blasted wasteland and wishing it wasn't so desolate. At this point he'd take Kentucky over here, and that's saying something. A pause, and then he glances sidelong at her. She's younger than he expected, for some reason, but he knows better than to assume that means inexperience. ]

I wouldn't recommend it.

muffled old town road plays in the mall

[firelords]

So we are trapped.

⟪ Herculean efforts are made to quench her urge to pace when she says that. What now? Time is ticking away, her father will return from the Earth Kingdom soon, and then... what then?

She folds her hands behind her back, standing more like an aged military general than a fourteen year old girl – though it's mostly just a tactic so she can keep twisting 'her' ring without showing the nervous tick to all the world (ie, the one solitary man she's talking to right now). At least with a problem to focus on, she can kind of keep her thoughts together. Things have been a bit... blurry since her father announced that she would be the new Fire Lord. ⟫

What was it like?

[ultimatums]

Well, you could certainly go out there if you wanted, but I dunno how long you'd last.

[ He puffs out a sigh. She looks like she's standing at attention, which would be amusing if it weren't for... everything else. Weirdly, being stuck in here with a bunch of people and... creatures... from places he's never even heard of is forcing him to realign what's funny. ]

Hot. Real hot. I only stuck my arms out and I got burned the hell up in seconds.

[firelords]

Great, just great.

⟪ She rubs her temples. This whole place is one long stretch of inconveniences, and that's putting it mildly. ⟫

Show me your arms.

[ultimatums]

[ They're mostly unblemished at this point — which is another fucked up thing he absolutely does not want to think about — but he holds them out to her anyway. When it happened, they'd bubbled up searingly in an instant, but now it's like he can't even tell himself that it happened. ]

Didn't take long for them to heal up, [ he says, frowning. ] Before you ask, I have no idea how that works.

wildcard - the great claire's misadventure

[brothered]

[Felix generally gives, like, no real thought to his hair. It's just hair, you know? Whatever. But the undeniable truth is that his hair is just long enough to be annoying if he doesn't have something to tie it back with, and as he is currently a) not interested in cutting his hair and b) trapped in this so-called "mall"...

...It's odd, how quickly the smallest things can become so very important. Hair ties were always just a Thing Felix had laying about his room, or his tent—and how he's standing in the middle of some pink-and-purple horror, staring at a wall of, like, corroded hairbands, and neon-colored clips, and fraying ribbons. Ooh, boy, what is this shit. His head hurts.

But someone steps through the doorway of this store, their shadow falling Felix's way, and he promptly glances over to see who will be keeping him company. A girl? ...A girl. He eyes her for all of five seconds before shifting his attention back to the weird whatchamacallits, hand never wandering to the two swords strapped to his belt. She sure does look like she's having A Time, but aren't they all, really. Aren't they all.]

Don't expect to find anything useful, [he calls back to her, reaching out to push a violet ribbon to the side. Disgustan.] This shop is filled with nothing but ridiculous baubles.

[And yet here he is! A grown man picking through all of them.]

[firelords]

⟪ Her first impression of the shop is that it's like a mixture of Lo and Li's beach house and what she imagines the inside of Ty Lee's mind to look like. Then she remembers that they are traitors, every last one of them, and letting them into her thoughts will only bring her down from the inside.

Takes her a moment to register that he might be tall, and he might be armed, but he doesn't seem to angle for a fight – no raised swords, no threats. Her hands, instinctively up in a defensive stance, lower.

Still, she approaches with caution, wanting a peek at the display he's inspecting to make sure he's not lying.

The word 'scrunchie' is outside her lexicon, and she picks it up with a look on her face that basically just says 'yikes'. She flexes it in her fingers, marvelling at the way the thing gives and stretches and –– 

Oops. Thinks fast, Flex, this one's coming right at your face. ⟫

Ah. That is what it does.

[brothered]

[This is one of the smaller stores in the mall, true, and yet it's still surprising for this stranger to sidle up to him? Felix can't help but to tense the slightest bit, looking at her from the corner of his eye—but it's only one girl. A short girl.

And the face she pulls when she plucks that terrible thing off its hook really sums up Felix's own feelings, so. The quietest snort, serving as a wordless, I know, right?

But then the terrible thing comes shooting toward his face.

Felix has excellent reflexes, but dodging at such close range is, you know. Rather ineffective. There's no way to stop the scrunchie from hitting—and thus bouncing off of—his cheek, and it's not like it hurts; it just catches Felix by surprise, prompting him to utter a quiet curse as he instinctively takes a step back, brings a hand up to rub at his cheek.]

What are you—

[Well, okay. What she did was obvious enough, he'll grant her that—but that doesn't make it any less annoying. Girl!!!]

Are you blind? [he snaps, giving her a Look before bending down to scoop this scrunchie up.] Do you think it's a weapon?

[You tryin' to FIGHT.]

[firelords]

I don't need weapons.

⟪ She does shoot him a sidelong glance, just to make sure that he didn't end up maimed in the wake of the flying scrunchie. Nah, still looks alive and well to her. In fact, she has both of her gremlin hands in the business of more dangly-glittery pink things.

Honestly, she'd like a hairbrush. And a piece of ribbon tie her hair with. ⟫

Why, are you looking to duel me?