collectedlogs | INTRO LOG #1

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

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⟪ she spends the first few days scavenging and getting the lay of the land. this place is convoluted, but she is starting to make sense of it, and besides, the constant onslaught of tasks – find food, find shelter, every single basic need suddenly being associated with work she actively has to do – it does her some good, even if she can't quite formulate that thought herself. there is a part of her that hasn't felt like herself ever since her father left for the earth kingdom, there's a hallucinatory edge to her vision, things are either maddeningly incomprehensible or too sharp, too focused.

but she's holding up. there's some facts she has begun to embrace: she's trapped in this mall with a bunch of strangers, none of whom seem to be from her world. the territory itself is hostile. until a ruling structure is established, she should make some effort to lie low. isn't that how she conquered ba sing se? don't play all your cards at once.

does she look alright? no, she looks like she's sleeping no more than two hours a night, she's evidently taken scissors to her own hair a couple days ago, and she'll occasionally stop to talk to herself. but all of that is comparatively fine until she rounds a corner and sees her brother, standing upright, and looking entirely real.

his knife is in her pocket, but she doesn't raise it. why would she? he's not really here. there's no way he survived that lightning. is there? ⟫

What? What do you want?

⟪ considering that he's probably just trying to get through another day at the mall, that's all pretty blame-laced, isn't it. ⟫

[Well. So much for his disguise. Not that he spares much of a thought for it, as he falls into a defensive stance as soon as his eyes register who he's looking at.

He'd been preparing himself for this ever since he found her robe--which he still has on him, rolled up in a backpack he'd found--but it's a different thing entirely to be confronted all at once and out of the blue. He actually forgets where he is; for a moment, he's back at the Western Air Temple, staring at her smug expression as she clings to a cliff-face.

But then something in him stops, because that's not what he's looking at at all.

There's something wrong with his sister. There's something manic in her eyes and the set of her mouth, and the way--she? or something, someone else?--has mangled her hair. He's never seen Azula like this. She's always been so perfectly composed, so invulnerable, in the face of what would make Zuko utterly fall apart. He can't imagine what it would take for her to unravel in this way.

He wants to ask what did he do to you? But he doesn't. He can't afford to have sympathy for her. When they go after Ozai, Azula will almost certainly have to die as well. He has to tell himself she's beyond hope, that she always has been. She's crazy and she needs to go down. Zuko can't give Azula any quarter, now or ever--that's where she does her best work. It's how she's always taken advantage of him.

But looking at her now, he still can't bring himself to attack. He doesn't relax. He doesn't speak. But he doesn't make a move, either. He waits to see what she'll do, braces himself to react as soon as she so much as twitches. ]

I thought so.

⟪ she breathes it out, but even that is louder than whatever rational voice she's got left inside of herself in this moment. later, she'll pull herself together again and make it through another day, but right now? right now, she's undone.⟫

You can't do anything.

⟪ but she doesn't move, not really, only takes in air and fights the urge to laugh. loses, laughs. there's a sense of control to this now: sure, her mother show up unasked, and now zuzu dearest has joined her, but as long as they can't touch her, there's nothing to fear.

not that she fears either of them. ⟫

Haunt me all you want. ⟪ it seems that once she started talking, she has trouble stopping. there are warning signs she's wrangling with, the bright orange thing he wears is not from ~~their~~ her world, for instance, and neither is the bag he carries, but he's just trying to mess with her, isn't he? ⟫ You and mother both.

[Zuko has no idea what any of that means. What he does know is: Azula still isn't attacking him. Part of him is screaming at himself not to question it, to take his openings wherever he can get them, that Azula could easily be playing him again. He knows Azula would never afford him the mercy he's already showing her by hesitating. He knows she needs to be taken down sooner or later, and it's to his advantage to do it while she can't, apparently, put up the fight she usually does.

He knows all this, but he doesn't want to fight her. He's never wanted to. She's his sister.

He still doesn't relax. He has to be careful about this. But it hadn't been so long ago that they could still talk to each other. Hadn't it?]

Azula, what are you talking about? [Their mother is--gone. Has been for years. She couldn't--she couldn't possibly be back.]

You're gone, Zuzu.

⟪ why does she shy away from saying he's dead? he's dead. lightning all the way through, he's not surviving that unless his little water peasant friend works a miracle. and there's no telling – maybe azula gets her chance to off her, too. then she just has to wait.

there's a shaking to her hands that she is trying to suppress. instead, she touches the knife – unlike him, she's not made the connection that objects here equate their owners from home. ⟫

You challenged me. You should've known better. ⟪ it sounds more like an accusation than a taunt. ⟫

[Zuko shifts his weight, not taking his eyes off of her. This is another game of hers he doesn't recognize--he'd thought she'd run out of those a long time ago, but here he is off-kilter again.

He can't tell if she's acting. Azula always lies, he tells himself, but something in her expression makes him hesitate. She always lies, but she's never lied like this.]

You challenged me. [It's the truth, as far as he knows.] You followed me back to my friends.

⟪ she glares, temporarily halted by an inconsistency bigger than the cracks in her mind. ⟫

That was weeks ago, Zuko. When you ran from your sentence.

[Weeks ago? How? Anything could have happened in that span of time--and if Zuko knows anything about his father, it's that he has a very loose definition of failure. Had Azula failed when she hadn't killed him at the temple? Is that why she's like this, because Ozai hadn't had Zuko there to take out his frustration on instead?

Guilt lances up through his stomach. It occurs to him: in all of his sister's schemes, she has never pretended to be vulnerable. She'd never bring herself that low on purpose. It just isn't in her.

Despite every instinct in him screaming at him to stop, Zuko relaxes out of his stance. He lowers his arms, though the balance of weight on his feet still stays wary, ready to move at the smallest change. He takes a step forward, and keeps his voice soft and quiet.]

Azula, what happened to you?

⟪ He does that horrible thing mother does when his voice gets treacherously soft. A weakness like that cannot stand, why hasn't either one of them ever learned that? Her hands are balled into fists at her side, but there's not a firebending move in the world that begins with that. ⟫

You!

⟪ Her voice comes out in a jagged edge. ⟫

He left me behind just like he left you. ⟪ And that has to be Zuko's fault somehow. She can practically hear her mother questioning that line of thought. ⟫ And then you came to take my crown away. And that isn't an option. It's the only thing he trusts me with anymore.

[Zuko realizes with a jolt that Azula has truly lost her senses. It explains her behavior, her mention of their mother--now she's referencing things that never happened. Horror settles on him as he realizes he has absolutely no idea what to do about this.]

No, I didn't. I don't even want the crown, Azula! [On some level, he never had, and he'd left behind any claim to it when he turned his back on their father for the last time. Now he wants nothing to do with the throne ever again.]

I don't know what you think happened, but it wasn't that. I'm done with that.

⟪ This is all she wants to hear and just about the last thing she is prepared for, now. His being a threat to her inheriting the crown has been so fundamentally part of her worldview for just about as long as her father had taught her all she needed to succeed him. Could she be satisfied with his word? Did it matter?

In the end, she laughs. It's not a happy sound, but it goes well with the nightmare mall. ⟫

She's telling you to say that. She has always pitted us against each other.

⟪ And it had always been a game she couldn't win. Maybe because winning parental affection isn't really how any of this works. ⟫

And... she knows what I did.

⟪ That's a moment of triumphant clarity, right before she seems to lose touch more. Her shoulders are shaking, but this time, she isn't laughing. ⟫

You're dying in the Capital, Zuko. You're not going to get up again. I can't let you. If father comes back and I lost the crown — ⟪ yeah, that's bad. ⟫ Why did you show up if you don't want it at all?

⟪ She's biting back tears now. Why she's on the verge of them is anyone's guess, and they're all as good as her own. Partly maybe because talking to someone you might have murdered is a lot. Partly maybe because she knows, at one remove, that he'll get up again as soon as his peasant friend heals him, and then there'll be consequences for her failure. ⟫

[Zuko brings his hands up in a placating gesture as he takes another slow step forward. He has no idea if it will work. She'd never had the patience for softness when they were children, but this is entirely new territory.]

Azula, I think... [He can't say you're sick, there's no way she'd take it well, though it's what's on his tongue.] I think you're confused. None of what you're talking about happened. See? Look at me. I'm fine. And--

[His mouth goes dry, because Azula is talking about their mother, and even after all this time it's hard for him to talk about her out loud.]

She's--Mom isn't here. She's been gone since we were kids. Remember?

⟪ He takes a step forward, so soft and slow as if he is approaching some type of wounded, dangerous animal. She whips around, checking behind herself – but there's nothing, just the food court.

And she's turned her back to the enemy.

Back around, eyes narrowing on him again, but she's still not gearing up to fight, and he's still talking. And that's the tricky thing with Zuko: he's not a liar. He's resistant to even the concept of learning how to lie, just like he didn't have the nerves to eavesdrop on their father or search for secret rooms and passages in the palace when they were children. His refusal to practice these base survival strategies are, yes, marks of all kinds of idiocy, but they also mean... he's probably telling the truth.

Azula shifts, visibly agitated. Mother had vanished when she'd broken the mirror. Zuko is moving awfully comfortably for someone who took a lightning bolt to the chest, even if someone had treated the wound. ⟫

Prove it. Prove you're here.

[Zuko purses his lips, both in contemplation of how he's meant to meet this request and because how far gone is she that she's even asking?

He keeps stepping forward slowly, hands up, eye contact constant. His face isn't concerned, but wary. Azula's right that he's seeing her as a wounded animal. When he gets close enough that they can meet hands through the distance between them, he gently turns his right hand over and extends it to her, palm up.

He's still coiled tight, ready to run or retaliate at the slightest twitch, but he keeps his hand there, steady. His eyes never stray from hers. It's an invitation; he waits.]

⟪ She is in a fugue state, her mind somehow both racing and at an absolute standstill. The ball is in her court, firmly placed there by him: she can reach out, cross the distance he'd already shrunk down, find the truth for herself. Or she can run.

If she touches him and he's gone, she's lost her mind. If she touches him and he is real, she will have to kill him. She can't kill him here: too many people in the mall, no way to get rid of the body. He told her they had never thought, what if she carries out a sentence that only exists in her mind?

If she kills him, all her problems will be solved, of course. Father will return and hold her high again, the throne is hers, her mother gone, and she will be feared, of course, but that's where best safety lies.

And what if she kills him and nothing changes except he's dead and she's living with it?

She reaches out. A few days ago, she'd reached forward and aimed her lightning straight for his friend, and there had been so much power to it her fingers had tingled with numbness afterwards. Had she just imagined that?

There's no electricity to her touch now, not even heat, not even the threat of a wicked little burn. Her fingers are almost a little cold when they brush against the skin of his palm. ⟫

You're here.

⟪ Real or not, he is here.

Bad, very bad. Worse now that he made it seem as if he cares even though she told him no lies that would force him to act that way.

Something – a smallish object – hits him square in the chest and then she's cleared out, speed enhanced by her blue flames. Apparently, this is the extend to which she wants to deal with him today.

But hey: at least he's got his knife back, safely stored in its sheath. ⟫

[Zuko can hardly believe it when Azula reaches out instead of attacks, touches him gently rather than try to hurt him. He'd hoped, of course, but he'd never really expected it--it's a rare thing when his own blood doesn't throw his trust right back in his face.

He's almost dizzy with disbelief and relief all in one, and he reaches out further to--he doesn't know what. Surely not embrace her. They haven't done that since years before Ozai cleaved them apart for good. It doesn't matter, because all he gets in return is a blow to the chest. It surprises him enough that it takes him a moment to recover, and by then Azula is long gone.

He stares in despair at the place where she was for several long seconds. Then he looks down at the thing in his fist, the thing she'd thrown at him and that he caught on instinct.

Zuko's mind blanks out all over again. Comprehension takes a while to fuzz into existence: it's his knife. The knife. Hands shaking, he slowly unsheathes it, pure muscle memory turning it around to the right inscription the first time.

There it is, the words that feel like they've been engraved on the inside of his skull from repetition: Never give up without a fight. He doesn't know what it means, that this is here and now with him of all places, but there is something he knows for sure:

Azula had found it first. She'd kept it. And she'd given it back to him.]

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INTRO LOG #1

wildcard more like feralcard

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