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3, 2, 1...
WAKE UP
The soft, rhythmic whoosh, whoosh of air is what you hear first, perhaps it's a breeze? The cyclical beep beep in the distance doesn't really jive with a lot of nature scenes, though. A moment or two later your vision comes back to you, blurry in the beginning but becoming clearer with each breath you take. All around you is an opaque blue dome, and when you can wrest your limbs to move, the blue retracts and you're met with a staid metal room.
What happened? Where are you? Your memory is fuzzier still, there being no easy way to jog it like your vision. What you can remember is that there was an accident: one minute you were in your home world, and the next you were in this foreign place surrounded by people you've never seen in your life. Not just any people—scientists, who were trying desperately to create matter, to break the laws of physics and chemistry, in order to save their world. Because their world was dying, and they had tried everything else and then some. Their experiment was a failure, but not all is lost—translocation is a valid solution, after all. They could just send all their people to a non-doomed world, and start anew. And they would have, if the machine they used to bring you here hadn't short circuited. Your combined luck isn't terrible, though, somehow, because there exists one more copy of the machine squirreled away in the space colony floating in a distant solar system somewhere, the Plan B of this dying civilization.
That's why you're here, waking up in this pod in a cloud of cold air and colder remembrances to the murmuring of other strangers around you. You don't recognize any of them (vaguely you remember something about keeping the other travelers separate for quarantine purposes), but a soothing, sonorous electronic voice interrupts your thoughts.
Also, stand by to meet your friendly neighborhood NPC on Sunday at 1 PM EST. Be there or be square!
What happened? Where are you? Your memory is fuzzier still, there being no easy way to jog it like your vision. What you can remember is that there was an accident: one minute you were in your home world, and the next you were in this foreign place surrounded by people you've never seen in your life. Not just any people—scientists, who were trying desperately to create matter, to break the laws of physics and chemistry, in order to save their world. Because their world was dying, and they had tried everything else and then some. Their experiment was a failure, but not all is lost—translocation is a valid solution, after all. They could just send all their people to a non-doomed world, and start anew. And they would have, if the machine they used to bring you here hadn't short circuited. Your combined luck isn't terrible, though, somehow, because there exists one more copy of the machine squirreled away in the space colony floating in a distant solar system somewhere, the Plan B of this dying civilization.
That's why you're here, waking up in this pod in a cloud of cold air and colder remembrances to the murmuring of other strangers around you. You don't recognize any of them (vaguely you remember something about keeping the other travelers separate for quarantine purposes), but a soothing, sonorous electronic voice interrupts your thoughts.
GOOD MORNING. WELCOME TO THE WILD DELIVERANCE. THE ONBOARD TEMPERATURE IS 25 DEGREES CENTIGRADE AND THE DAY IS SATURDAY. WE WILL BE ARRIVING AT OUR DESTINATION SHORTLY, SO PLEASE SIT BACK AND RELAX. THE CAPTAIN WELCOMES-OOC: Welcome to Convive! All characters wake up in the pod room, completely naked, though their color coded space suit and personal effects are in a storage compartment attached to their pod. Additionally, all characters will naturally understand each other due to a totally innocuous implant!
No I fucking don't. Wakey, wakey, you formerly comatose cryptids. We've got a bit of a problem, and no I'm not talkin' about the end of this world, or how you miss your bed and just wanna go home. It's a bit more immediate and simpler than that, ain't that grand?
There's fucking parasitic aliens on this ship and they're not friendly. Just ask our two engineers, Kelvin and Calli—wait you can't, because they're DEAD thanks to our local alien assholes.
Don't worry though, I've got a plan. But hey, if you can solve this on your own go for it—might wanna start with the basic profiles on your new fancy PDA. Maybe you can just ask someone if they're an alien? Hahahahaha.
Talk to ya later!
Also, stand by to meet your friendly neighborhood NPC on Sunday at 1 PM EST. Be there or be square!
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At the very least, this sort of response was relatively informative, and he felt slightly less eager to spring into an argument for the moment. ]
I'm not interested in stabbing innocent people here, so no worrying about that on my end.
[ He'll head to the long lock drawers and without hesitation, open them. What's inside? ]
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Because that's what you're getting! An unknown man and woman are revealed as he pulls the drawers open, presumably their long-lost ex-engineers. Luckily for everyone, they're fully dressed in the same spacesuits the current crew has had provided; quite unluckily for everyone, they're very obviously dead.
Where (or who) would you like to start?]
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How's he looking, just straight out? Any obvious wounds on his face or body before Giorno began touching him for reasons? ]
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But apart from looking like your textbook engineer, just taller, he actually looks to be in pretty good condition thanks to the refrigeration and the careful attentions of whoever stuffed him in here. Well, his glasses are fogged over now, and there's a lone but impressive splatter of blood out from his neck over his collar courtesy of an easy-to-spot neck injury, but other than that!
Looks like he got ahead of the curve on this murdergame thing.]
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Let's check out that neck wound!
Did it look like somebody clawed the fuck out of his neck, bite it through like some kind of bloodthirsty vamp, or took a bladed weapon to his neck? ]
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*All details are fictitious save for the bladed weapon, which is real.]
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He'll look at the man's hands as well as his arms (he'll pull up sleeves if he had to.) Any defensive wounds? ]
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Giorno is free to manhandle the corpse as much as he likes, though rigor mortis is a bitch when you've been in the fridge for a while. There are no defensive wounds in evidence.]
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Giorno will rifle through the man's pockets; old habits do die hard but it's for the good of them all! Will he find anything of note? ]
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Look, if you're not going to loot them probably someone else will, so one good(?) life decision was made here today. He will find a PDA, and also a couple of minor tools like a screwdriver and a couple of bolt nuts. Pocket lint. A microfiber cloth for glasses, because who wipes their glasses on these spacesuits; you'd expect it to be crew-issue or something, but it actually has star constellations printed on it! Cute.]
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Anyway jokes aside, he'll glance over at Garista who had peered at him while he had been looting the corpse. Wow, that was extroadinarily good timing. But hey, he found something!
...It was actually more than he expected. ]
It looks like he was carrying something that might be important, at the time of his death.
[ So, let's look at the PDA. Was it on and if so, did it have anything on it of interest? Such as information, or hints that could indicate when he died? Or where? Or even bonus information was good. If not, he figured he could ask their oh-so-wonderful captain. ]
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Some of the cracks are fixed with electrical tape, but luckily it doesn't obscure the screen! In its data storage, Giorno will find: a few notes in an incomprehensible shorthand interspersed with interjections like wire B-077 and circuit HV-1468, (2) slightly out of focus pictures of what looks like electrical wiring somewhere, (2) photos that look like attempts to take pictures of the stars that ended up getting blotted out by glass reflections (this guy sucks at photos).
Oh, and the following brief personal profile:
KELVIN DICKE
AGE: 35
HEIGHT: 5'9" / 175 cm
WEIGHT: 155 lbs. / 70 kg
▼ SKILLS
Electrical engineering, photography, karaoke
▼ LIKES
Astronomy, astrology, chicken tenders
▼ DISLIKES
Brussels sprouts
▼ TRIVIA
It's not shower karaoke if you also sing outside the shower.]
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All right, though, let's check out what's going on with the woman over there, then.]
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All corpse canoodling aside, she's in the same carefully preserved condition as her colleague, but it's immediately obvious that she's had a bit more attention than that. As in, it looks like someone really went to town here, considering she's basically covered in congealed blood. Nice.]
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He'll look over at Giorno, who is...apparently looting the corpse because we don't have any sane people on this goddess-forsaken vessel- ]
It would appear that whomever killed that one had...slightly more restraint than this, to put it very gently.
[does he have to touch it
Okay, let's just kind of. Check this one over to see if they tried to defend themselves or if they were just overwhelmed by the stabs.]
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Unfortunately he will probably have to shift cloth at the very least, but as with any good laboratory he can find lab gloves nearby at any given time! It's pretty hard to find anything in between all the stabs, though; it's probably safe to assume that overwhelming happened.]
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(and listen. he, personally, has never looted a corpse in his life. he's sure some people he knows have but he's from a shitty movie adaptation.)
That said, wow. Okay. This is a mess. He sort of hates that Giorno has a point with possible important things being carried on their person, so what about this one? Anything of note? He will not, like, straight up loot in depth but patting down while shifting clothes is viable, if there's something there and he feels it he'll go after it.]
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She's carrying less than the other guy -- looks like just the PDA and... a spare one of those blank green k-cups? You do you, corpse lady.]
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Okay, let's just...turn the PDA on, he's spent a little while getting acquainted with his own so he can manage that much, is there anything of use on here?]
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Her notes app contains a list of such names as Bazzulth, The White One; Dusoiphu, Protector Of Creatures; Teizzianth, The Squeeler, so who knows what's going on there. There's a couple of solo selfies, and then (1) selfie that shows both her and Kelvin in what's easily recognizable as the viewport. She's a much better photographer, honestly. And much more recognizable here than under all the stabs.
If he wants to snoop in on her profile, it's on there too!
CALLI STONE
AGE: 41
HEIGHT: 5'5" / 165 cm
WEIGHT: 136 lbs. / 62 kg
▼ SKILLS
Rocket science, graphic design
▼ LIKES
Fantasy, coffee, tabletop games
▼ DISLIKES
The lack of Internet connection
▼ TRIVIA
She has named every plant on the ship.]
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[...Hm...]
Her profile is also here, along with what I assume to be pet names for the plants.
[Either that or we're all going to have to answer to Teizzianth one day.]