Reverie

[ at approximately 1930 hours, on the ic equivalent of may 21, a message is broadcast to the network. it reads as follows: ]

To the people of Reverie Terminal:

This station has been corrupted. The souls of its inhabitants are lost, taken in by tyranny and complacency. And I have not turned a blind eye.

In three days time, at precisely 2100 hours, my greatest heist will begin. By the end of the night, the alcohol you hold so dear will be gone.

This is your only warning. Repent if you wish to be saved.


[ ooc: venus is a giant overdramatic idiot and, thanks to akechi teaching her about phantom thieves, as decided that this is the best way to announce her idea for a drinking party!! no actual heist is going to happen when the time comes, and after a few minutes of no response venus is going to just suggest anyone who wants to grab a drink. (get it. because they're making the liquor disappear. she's so clever we're all very proud of her)

no replies will be sent out to this post. notifs are disabled for me, so feel free to threadjack! log will be going up when written! ]

what upppp biznatches? hangover cures that exist here. go. oh and if someone suggests hair of the dog, i WILL barf on you. as a wise man said: space booze ain't nothing to Блядь with.

[ kenzi may hang out with magic creatures herself or something like that but apparently that doesn't make her immune to a wicked hangover. she has bones to pick but that's after she gets something super greasy in her mouth (does space food get super greasy?) and the room stops spinning.]

also where is everyone getting actual REAL clothes? i will be willing to help do ANYTHING on this space heap if it means i can get my hands on some real clothes.

So uh

I see everyone got this bullshit list of bullshit. Or at least numerous people.

So here's the deal. You got this shit here that don't mean shit, like "Geoscience"? Is that even relevant to us right now? "Comms Officer". Yeah that sure as hell doesn't mean shit to anyone here. Sounds like some military crap, first of all. Here we are, everyone using the comms and I can't see anyone figuring out how to stop someone yet. "Quarter Master"? Who the fuck even cares.

Now "Chief Food Supplier" is something we direly need but seeing as all we have are those crappy food dispensers, I'm not entirely sure what you would even do. I think that could be reworded to "Head chef" too, unless one of you fuckheads want to fly your happy ass down to that planet over there and try to catch some real meat.

Anyway, that's all just unnecessary garbage, but what I'm trying to get at is that we HARDLY have what could pass as a society here, and I don't know about you, but ain't none of you paying enough to get me or like anyone with a shred of self-respect to be a goddamn "Waste Disposal Chief". We don't even have an economy here.

So, how 'bout we just set this shit aside and don't even think about it, honestly? If you want a roster so bad, take one of those books and write everyone's names down.

This roster. It seems other people have gotten it too. It's obviously evidence for what was happening here, but also a good suggestion.

They had a Chief of Security. Where I'm from, my job was to keep things secure and safe. So unless someone has reasonable objections to it, I'm going to continue that work here. Call me Chief of Security or not. I don't care.

I'm going to mark areas known to be dangerous, like the sinking doors. If there are any other locations you notice and are worried about let me know. And if anyone personally does anything harmful to another person then I will step in and stop it.

[A shitty-looking teenager appears on-screen, wearing sunglasses despite the obvious lack of sun in his cabin, dressed in a white tracksuit rather than the standard-issue uniform, smoking a cigarette like he's not even on a space station with maybe limited oxygen supply. He gestures at the camera as if he's already mid-conversation with the audience, amicable and Balkan, just like his accent:]

You miss some shit from back home, right? Whatever you had before whoever-the-fuck ripped it off you. Or, like, maybe some shit you didn't even have before, but you want it now, anyway. What I'm saying is: What're you missing? If your genie or your fairy godmother or whatever came around, what would you ask for?