hadrielmods: (Default)
ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴅᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴏғ ʜᴀᴅʀɪᴇʟ ([personal profile] hadrielmods) wrote in [community profile] hadriel_logs2016-01-16 09:08 am

Event log: Buried Alive

Who: Everyone participating in the event!
What: The event log for the Buried Alive event!
Where: All around the city
When: January 16th-January 19th
Warnings: Claustrophobia, starvation, premature burials, all that fun stuff.


On the morning of January 16th, half of the game's characters wake up to find that they are not where they were when they fell asleep. Instead, they're surrounded by a claustrophobic darkness, cheap satin cushioning, and an intense feeling of weight directly above them. Unfortunately, all of this adds up to the fact that your character has been buried alive.

Luckily, they'll have their phones, which can function as a source of light, communication, and hopeful distraction. They'll be able to talk to the other folks who are buried around the city, as well as their would-be rescuers. Thanks to Hope's timely post on the network, the rescuers know where everyone is, even if they're not sure who is buried where.

This is where organization, planning, and a little bit of luck come in! The aboveground characters will be supplied with shovels via the armory and are encouraged to go dig up their buried friends. Dig quickly though, because the air supply is pretty thin, and by the morning on January 19th, the characters who are not yet dug up will find that oxygen deprivation is a rather unfortunate way to die.

So, grab your communicator, grab your shovel, and get to work!


► This log covers January 16th-January 19th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► Please remember to report any deaths to the Death page!
circumitus: Captain Morgan didnt let me down when i stand up it feels like the world is trying to hand me rainbows. (i hate your face)

rey; closed to nick valentine

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-01-17 07:24 am (UTC)(link)
If anyone asked her what motivation Rey had to grab a shovel and start digging through closed graves of suffocating people, she honestly wouldn't have much of a satisfactory answer. She had no one important to her in this place. Not even anyone that she would consider an acquaintance was even present here.

Perhaps it was the simple fact that being buried alive is a shit deal. Not only that, but traumatic as fuck. It wasn't too long ago that Rey had found herself nearly crushed to death in the undercarriage of an aircraft's landing gear, and a few minutes of that alone was enough to rattle her. Being forced to spend days in a place like that, though?

Yeah, no.

Besides, if luck had played its hand differently, it was possible that she could have been the one under there. There was no way in hell that she would have been able to rely on the goodwill of strangers to help her ass out. As self-sufficient as she would rather be, they were all in this together, if they were ever going to make it out.

At the end of her working daze, Rey was no longer shoveling dirt. After digging herself into a rather deep hole herself, she finally managed to excavate her way to a coffin. She continues shoveling until she's unearthed enough that she could fully make out the coffin, tapping it with the metal end.

"Hey, whoever's in there, you better not be dead." Depending on whether or not she gets an answer, she'll work on prying open the coffin with her shovel next.
synthedick: (♣ tough times)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-01-17 09:22 am (UTC)(link)
It was less than a week ago that Nick had gone from trapped in Skinny Malone's lockup to trapped in some underground city. Less than a week had passed since he'd been dragged there by gods he'd never heard of, pitted against creatures he'd never seen before.

Yes, it had been less than a week, and here he was, was trapped again - this time, buried alive. When it rained, it poured.

Being stuck in a box for hours on end gave the gears in his head plenty of time to turn. While he can breathe and eat, they aren't necessities, and he therefore had no fear of asphyxiation or starvation upon discovering his predicament. However, his synthetic body is simultaneously an advantage and a disadvantage: he could undoubtedly survive in the coffin for days, weeks - more if necessary - but in the event no one found him, he was going to be down there a very, very long time. He'd examined the inside as best he could with the light from his phone, and there didn't seem to be any way for him to dig himself out. That meant waiting for a rescue.

He'd met a couple of people in the city, but they were nothing more than passing acquaintances. Thus far, it seemed his life would continue to be as lonely a one as it sometimes was in the Commonwealth: he had yet to run into anyone quite like him, synth or otherwise - not that he particularly wanted to run into other synths. And knowing no one in the city, no one would come looking for him in the grave, much as no one was likely to come looking for him in some mook-ridden Vault.

Still, he counted his blessings. He could need air and food. He could be panicking, like others seemed to be doing on the phone. Hell, he could not have the phone at all to keep him entertained. It was a handy piece of technology - some kind of pocket terminal all his own, capable of broadcasting both phone calls and film. Handy, indeed.

He was also lucky that there were people both capable and willing to mount a rescue effort, meaning he wasn't stuck in that box for nearly as long as he'd expected he'd be. After two weeks stuck in Skinny Malone's makeshift cell, that felt like winning the lockup lottery.

It's a little over a day when he hears the sound: crunching, the shifting of dirt against the coffin as the soil above it is loosened and moved out of place. Either it wasn't packed well, or someone had finally found him. A voice calling from the other side tells him it's the latter.

He calls back from inside. "Trust me, that's not an option."
circumitus: I ONLY KNOW HOLA. (EVERYONE IS SPEAKING SPANISH)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-01-18 10:53 pm (UTC)(link)
Good. Still alive, then.

Without bothering to ask what that response even means, she continues working. Eventually, she's able to use the shovel to pry the seal of the coffin.

She drops the shovel, kneeling down over the end of the coffin to swing open the face door to look inside and--

What the shit. Her eyes narrow.

"Thought you said you weren't dead."

Because you look pretty dead, dude. At the very least, you don't look alive.
synthedick: (♥ jewel of the commonwealth)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-01-19 02:08 am (UTC)(link)
Glad to be released from his burial prison, Nick sits up and removes his hat, flexing his crumpled fedora back into shape. He, much like his hat, has seen better days: there's a torn seam that reaches from his crown to his jawline and down his neck, revealing the mechanical parts that comprise his insides; his skin sports an array of scars and nicks, wounds made permanent by his synthetic nature; his right hand is nothing but a bare skeleton with metal where bone should be.

So yeah, it's understandable when someone thinks he's dead at first glance. He's convinced more than a handful of people he's a ghoul who took a few hundred too many rads - and for some, that's a more comforting thought than what he truly is. That's nothing new.

"I said it wasn't an option," he corrects, getting his hat into some semblance of shape and affixing it to his head before sliding the rest of the way out of the coffin. "Not that I'm complaining about having an advantage when I might wake up any day and find myself six feet under."
Edited 2016-01-19 10:52 (UTC)
circumitus: Why was that not a good enough reason to put me to bed? (threw a jar of pickles at a police car)

i'm so sorry, lol

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-01-19 09:21 pm (UTC)(link)
If not for the fact that Rey had just spent several hours, if not the whole day trying to get this thing out of its coffin, she would've cracked it over the skull with her shovel and burn the remains.

...He, she then realizes. This synth looks and talks like it's supposed to be male.

Her teeth grit as she scratches the back of her head with her free hand, her other clutching the shovel that does not aim for any vitals. The synthetics that she knew look nothing like this. Hell, most of them appear human rather than walking corpses, and that was part of their game. What was the point of making one that looks like this guy?

After a moment of stunned silence, she whips her head from side to side, shaking her mind back to the present. "What the hell are you?" is what slips out after Nick is done talking. Which may not be the nicest thing to come out of her, but it's certainly not the cruelest.
synthedick: (♦ a loose end)

Bless you, Rey. Bless.

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-01-19 11:53 pm (UTC)(link)
While Rey's question is brazen, it's not the first time someone has asked just what he is in such a manner -- probably won't be the last time, either. It's definitely becoming a more common occurrence than he's used to, a reminder that he's not in the Commonwealth anymore. Synths and the Institute aren't the boogeymen in Hadriel: they're complete unknowns, meaning people are aware of neither his unusual nature, nor of the sinister history behind his very existence.

That doesn't mean folks won't make snap judgments based on appearances, however. Some accept what he is easier than others, and one look at his savior's face tells him this is going to be one of those hard sells.

"I'm a detective," he answers, "and I'm tired of being in this hole." He gestures toward the tall, earthen walls of the surrounding grave with his bare hand. "Want a boost to get out?"

Not that she looks like the type who needs a boost, given her physique, but he figures being helpful can't hurt, especially when he owes her his gratitude.
circumitus: If you can't drink cheep beer and whiskey with me, I don't want you. (fuck it)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-01-20 08:45 pm (UTC)(link)
A detective that looks like a dead man. That makes sense.

No, not really. Until she notices that he's not really so much a dead man but a machine. As in with machine parts.

At that point, she would've preferred it if he was a dead man instead.

She shakes her head at his offer, trying as she might to keep a leveled tone when she replies. "No thanks. You'll probably strain yourself." Emotions don't become her, so she just resorts to to her flat monotone when she responds.

Besides, he doesn't look like something that could boost three hundred pounds. So much as she hates turning her back to a synthetic, she moves to grab hold of the roots, using them to climb her way six feet out of the sloping hole. She doesn't offer to return the favor when she makes it to the top, just assuming that maybe Mr. Robot Detective can figure it out just by watching her.
synthedick: (♣ public knowledge)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-01-20 10:16 pm (UTC)(link)
"Suit yourself," Nick returns neutrally, watching her scale her way out of the hole -- as predicted, she's perfectly capable of climbing out on her own. He follows once she's at the top; despite his worn looks, his mechanical muscles don't tire the same way they would for a natural body, so the climb isn't too bad for him, either. It could've been worse -- they could have buried him sixty feet underground instead of six.

Getting to his feet at the edge of the grave, he brushes the dirt off his coat, which is in as much disrepair as the rest of him. "The name's Valentine -- Nick Valentine. And I owe you my thanks. Being down there didn't bother me as much as some people, but I think I've had my fill of being underground."

Not that he wasn't still underground, but the cavern that housed Hadriel was preferable to a coffin or Skinny Malone's Vault-turned-lockup.
Edited 2016-01-20 22:16 (UTC)
circumitus: Keep up the good work. (it's a 12/12/12 miracle)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-01-20 11:37 pm (UTC)(link)
It does suit her.

By the time Nick is out of the hole, the spade is stabbed into the ground while Rey casually brushes off the soil from her bare arms as well. Her cargo pants and tanktop are muddy, as are some splotches of dirt on her face and in her hair. But she bears the scarred face of a woman who doesn't care about getting down and dirty when she has to.

"Rey," she says simply, bearing no last name unlike the synth here. She goes to rub some of the filth off her cheek only to just smear it when she does. "We're not entirely out of the woods yet. Still a lot of people that are buried."

Which means she'd rather get to that as soon as possible, rather than stand here socializing with something she's clearly not all too comfortable with.
synthedick: (♥ confidence man)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-01-21 12:30 am (UTC)(link)
Nick gives her a smile, silently thankful the personality he's been shouldered with is a relatively good-natured one. He can tell from Rey's tone that she's not entirely comfortable with him -- it's generally the metal parts or the glowing eyes that set people off, but it could be the situation, too. Hell, he considers, if someone she cares about is still buried who knows where, then it's no wonder she's ready to move.

"If you've got the coordinates of another body and know where I can get a shovel, I'm happy to help," Nick replies.
circumitus: (503): forewarning i'll probably have done those drugs with you (i wanna bring you to show and tell)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-01-21 08:30 am (UTC)(link)
If nothing else, at least Nick is a helpful synthetic.

"Coordinates are on the network, but here is the nearest one." She opens up her communication device and shows him the location. "Shovels are in the armory. There's no shortage of them, or the graves."

She may not have anyone important to her buried underground, but she isn't beyond empathy.

Besides, she could use the distraction, especially now.
synthedick: (♣ war never changes)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-01-21 08:57 am (UTC)(link)
"To the armory it is," he replies with a nod, making a mental note of the coordinates she shows him. "Not everyone can get by without air, so it's best we move quickly. You head there and get started. I'll grab a shovel and meet you there."

He turns to go, taking only a couple of steps before slowing down as he decides to offer her an out. He might be about the nicest synth one will ever meet -- most of the time, at least -- but even he knows how his very nature can be unnerving. Hell, even he's not used to it some days.

And if she has any idea what he is, she has every reason not to trust him. That's one thing he is used to. You can't force people to accept you. That's just not how things work, and it never has been.

"... Unless you'd rather I find a different spot to dig. You might be done by the time I get back."
circumitus: She was stuck there, we simply exchanged rides. (it's not like i paid for sex)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-01-21 08:15 pm (UTC)(link)
On the bright side, even if she wasn't uncomfortable with the synth Rey still would have taken that out. She isn't in a very sociable mood and she'd rather blow off steam digging than hanging out with someone, especially since it's a task she can easily get done herself.

"Think it'll be more efficient if we take different coordinates." She sighs, tossing the shovel up from the dirt and catching the neck of it with one hand. "Should be able to cover more ground that way."

Pun not intended.
synthedick: (♥ unlikely valentine)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-01-24 09:53 am (UTC)(link)
Intended or not, that pun gets a laugh out of him.

"Heh. Sounds like a plan, Rey. Thanks again for digging me up."

And with that, he's off to the armory. Better conversations will have to wait; for now, there are people who need help. He might not be considered a person by some, but he still has humanity's best interest at heart.