THE THINGS I GAVE YOU.
» THE BANK — INTRODUCTORY NOTES
District 2 is open, bringing with it access to new and interesting locations—including the city's main bank branch. The bank is a large building with a stone exterior, wrought iron grating on the windows, and large, heavy metal doors that take surprisingly little effort to open, their hinges silent and well-oiled.
Early in the day on July 19, characters in the vicinity of the bank will hear first a low, metallic creaking sound from inside the building, like metal straining against metal. This is followed by the sharper noise of locks disengaging, and then the large, heavy doors on the front of the building swing open slightly, enough to let a person through.
Directly inside the doors is the bank lobby, and beyond that is the main banking floor, with elegant marble flooring and dimly lit chandeliers. It would appear that this was once the main commercial bank of the city, although it is now completely empty, with no tellers behind the counters and no cash in any of the drawers.
You may rifle through the tills and filing cabinets to your heart's content, but similar to the files in City Hall, there is no useful information to be found—all the papers are blank, or are empty forms without any personally identifying information. There are no monetary devices to be found either; this is, after all, not a city that operates on a cash system, so there are no coins or paper bills in any of the tills or, indeed, anywhere within the bank.
What you might be able to find, though, is a rack of delicate, burnished brass keys on a wall toward the back of the main banking hall. Each of these keys is attached to a stamped metal keychain bearing a name on one side and a number on the other. Some of these may be names you recognize, and some of them may not, but they are all names belonging to current residents of the city, and each key corresponds to a safety deposit box within the vault at the back of the building. Can you remember what you stored in that box for safekeeping? Maybe you had better go find out.
At the back of the main banking hall is a vault secured with a large circular metal door. The door is currently unlocked and propped open; it can be closed, but cannot be locked (intentionally, anyway) from either the inside or the outside. The vault contains row upon row of safety deposit boxes, each locked. Participating characters who are in possession of a key can open their own safety deposit box, but it is not currently possible to force open any safety deposit box that does not belong to them. After August 1, players will be able to use their safety deposit boxes to store their own belongings, and break-ins will become possible with prior player permission and appropriate consequences.
Below sections detail the safety deposit boxes for both choose-your-own-adventure players and randomized players! Please see the randomized matches for this event HERE.
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IT'S TRUE, PEOPLE TAKE THINGS BUT RARELY.
» SAFETY DEPOSIT BOXES — A SELF-GUIDED TOUR
For some of you, getting into your safety deposit box is quite straightforward.
You take your key from the rack behind the teller's counter and make your way back through the building and into the vault. It's cool inside, the temperature well-regulated and the air dry. On the walls are rows upon rows of safety deposit boxes, and it may take you a moment to find the one that corresponds to the number stamped on your key. Does that number mean anything to you? It may, or it may not.
When you find your box, it takes very little effort to open it. A slide of your key, a quick turn, and the safety deposit box's door springs open to reveal the metal container within. You remove the metal box from the wall and bring it over to the table in the center of the room, clearly placed there for this express purpose. Maybe there are others around, or maybe you're alone. Do you remember yet, what it was you put in here? Well, there's no time like the present to check.
You open the safety deposit box to find—something that shouldn't be there. It's yours, that much you're sure of, but you didn't bring it with you to the city. You reach into the box to pick it up, and the surge of memory is immediate, sending your mind back to your strongest memory associated with the item in your hand.
Then the vault door swings shut, trapping you inside with whoever else has the misfortune of sharing the vault with you right now. No matter what force you try, the door won't open again. There doesn't appear to even be a mechanism that unlocks the door from the inside, and from within several feet of metal and stone, no one on the outside will be able to hear you shout. It seems hopeless—how long can anyone last, trapped in a place like this?
Should you turn back to the open safety deposit box, you might notice a slip of paper resting on the bottom. The paper looks aged, like it's been in the box for quite some time, and in printed text it reads: "Nothing is yours. It is to use. It is to share. If you will not share it, you cannot use it."
Maybe it means you should let another hold the item you've retrieved from the box… or maybe it means you should share the weight of memory. Try to interpret the meaning in whatever way you can. But should you decide to unburden yourself, and share with someone else the weight of the item you're holding in your hands, you may find that there's a means of escape after all.
Once you free yourself from the vault, for the next several days you find yourself feeling rather honest, like you may not be able to stop yourself from confessing the truth about the item you now carry…
Characters who wish to participate in the event, but who do not wish to randomize the contents of their safety deposit boxes, can open their safety deposit boxes to find an emotionally significant item belonging to the character—player's choice as to what the item is. The only guidelines are that it should be small enough to fit reasonably in a pocket and may not have any magical or weapon properties. Similarly, players are able to choose the memories associated with the items in the safety deposit boxes. The vault door will remain closed until the characters in the vault explain to each other the significance of their items and the memory associated with them, at which point it the vault mechanisms will disengage and the door will swing open as if it had never closed to begin with. However, for the four days following the event, characters who carry their safety deposit box item on their person will feel oddly compelled to tell other characters about its significance and meaning.
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A CRASH-SITE IS SACRED, WE'RE FAITHFUL.
» SAFETY DEPOSIT BOXES — A JOINT VENTURE
For others of you, the contents of the safety deposit box may be considerably more disconcerting.
You also take your safety deposit box key from the rack behind the bank teller's counter and make your way back through the building and into the vault. It's cool inside, the temperature well-regulated and the air dry. On the walls are rows upon rows of safety deposit boxes, and it may take you a moment to find the one that corresponds to the number stamped on your key. Does that number mean anything to you? It may, or it may not.
When you find your box, it takes very little effort to open it. A slide of your key, a quick turn, and the safety deposit box's door springs open to reveal the metal container within. You remove the metal box from the wall and bring it over to the table in the center of the room, clearly placed there for this express purpose. Maybe there are others around, or maybe you're alone. Do you remember yet, what it was you put in here? Well, there's no time like the present to check.
You open the safety deposit box to find—wait, what is that? It certainly doesn't belong to you. Tucked inside the safety deposit box alongside the item is a slip of paper with another name on it, as well as a cryptic message: "Nothing is yours. It is to use. It is to share. If you will not share it, you cannot use it." The item isn't yours, but it does appear to belong to another resident of the city. Maybe your safety deposit boxes somehow got mixed up? It seems like it would be a good idea to find this person and return their property to them.
Whether you encounter the owner of the item in the vault or elsewhere in the city, when it comes time to hand the item over, two things happen. One—the doors are locked tight, refusing to allow either you or the item's owner out until you both understand what the item is and what it means to the other. To unburden your heart is the only way to free yourself.
And two—as the owner of the item explains its significance, you find yourself oddly captivated, resonating strongly with whatever emotion the item's owner most closely associates with it. You may not be able to see the memory that the other person describes, but you can certainly feel the emotions they felt—after all, the easiest way to unburden oneself is to share the load with another. Isn't that right?
Once you free yourself from your enthralled state, and once you have your own belongings returned to you, for the next several days you find yourself feeling rather honest, like you may not be able to stop yourself from confessing the truth about the item you now carry…
Characters who opted to randomize the contents of their safety deposit box during the plotting post, or who plotted a joint experience with another character, will open their safety deposit boxes to find a small, non-magical but emotionally significant item belonging to another player character in the city. They will need to find the owner of that item and return it to them—this can either be inside the bank vault or in another location within the city. Regardless of where the meeting takes place, the character holding the item will find themselves unable to leave until the character who owns the item explains its significance; as they do, the holder of the item will find themselves swept up in the emotional highs and lows of the memories associated with that item, allowing them to share all of the feelings, regrets, joys, griefs, and rages that the owner experiences in the telling. Additionally, for the four days following the event, characters who carry their safety deposit box item on their person will feel oddly compelled to tell other characters about its significance and meaning.
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WILDCARD.
The city is by no means small, and there are plenty of things for you to see. There's no rush in exploring, so feel free to take your time looking around and peering into various nooks and crannies and alleyways—and don't worry, you're not very likely to find anything peering back.
If none of the above prompts appeal, feel free to check out the Locations and Maps pages and write your own freestyle prompt using one or many of the available locations.
This month's event headers come from "The Things" and "The Gatherer," two poems by Brendan Constantine. The text of the paper slip comes from Ursula K. LeGuin's The Dispossessed.
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citylogs2023-07-19 08:45 pm
only if you forgive me for taking an age first
I'm... Midnight. I'd assume you're the individual whose jar of sugar I have.
[ Even if he does seem to be pouring himself a tall glass of motor oil. Hey, Midnight won't judge. There are AI-driven robots all over his landship. He is pretty used to their idiosyncrasies!
Anyway, he turns back, digs around in his pocket, and pulls the jar from his pocket, walking over to the counter to where the rather sleepy robot still stands. ]
As to when we were supposed to meet, I think we've both managed to arrive early, so now's a good time as any.
no subject
[He puts the glass oil up to his face and drinks it, and then sets it down.]
I'm glad you brought it. I'd pay you something for the trouble, if this place had any kind of money.
no subject
No need. I don't like keeping things that don't belong to me. I am a bit curious about it, if you'll allow me some honesty... I've never heard of this type of sugar before.
[ And why does a robot own one? Does he bake? ]
no subject
Well, it's from Christophsis. Wait, no it isn't. [Roger pauses and taps his head.] I can't remember who really invented it.
But there was a lot of this stuff on Christophsis. I was part of an occupying army, there, once. But I didn't think about it at the time.
It wasn't until after I got out of the army, when I was a free droid, that I started trying to see what organics used it for. I started cooking with it.
[He picks up the jar.] I think I gave this one to a... [Roger thinks for a few seconds,] a chef, on Takodana. While we were trading recipes.
no subject
There are a few stools in the self-serve area. Midnight considers for a moment, then walks over to snag one and drag it over to where R0-GR still stands at the counter. ]
Rather generous of you, especially if that was the only time you'd ever met that chef. No judgment, though, I like giving gifts myself... Unless gift isn't the right word, here? Were you trading for something besides recipes?
no subject
[If the droid had his datapad with his memoirs saved on it with him, he could easily rectify the issues with his erroneous memory. Instead he simply launches into a somewhat faulty story, though the general spirit of it is accurate and correct. It elicits emotions almost supernaturally as normal, though those emotions come out confused and jumbled.] We found out that a Jedi Knight who had been trying to send us to gather some crystals, actually intended to sell them to a crime lord who wanted to sell them to the Emperor. The crystals were the key to creating a bunch of ancient superweapons, so we couldn't let her have them, so she chased us out of our home across the galaxy. We ended up crashing into a pirate ship on Takodana trying to escape her, and to pay him back the pirate sent us to get some eggs. But we didn't give him the eggs, so instead we traded them, and the sugar, for one of the crystals. Then we had to run away from that planet, because we'd made even more enemies.
[That, however, is just the story of a Kyber crystal incidentally related to the planet where he gave the jar away. A more clear experience, of warm nostalgia, follows as he reminisces about the qualities of the sugar itself.] I know the recipe I gave that used this. Sweet-sand cookies. I've been told a lot of the stuff I make can be touch-and-go. My taste sensors are only calibrated for drinking oil, and my olfactory sensors malfunction half the time, so I kind of have to guess what people will like. And sometimes I go overboard with fire while I'm cooking and everything gets burnt. But when I actually do well with this one, it seems to be peoples' favorite.
[That much unlocks the door, though Roger never noticed it had locked itself.]
no subject
I'd like to try some of your cookies sometime. My CO bakes a bit — fruitcake — but we only really get to partake when she's in a good mood. That you have an activity that makes you happy, something that you can share... It's something to be thankful for, I think.
... I'll admit I don't understand a lot of the story before the cookies, though. Knights, emperors, crime lords, pirates... I think I get the idea, but I'm not sure what any of it means.
[ Midnight's asking because he's genuinely curious. He loves a good story, and learning how to understand stories is a part of that love. ]