expiationlogs | WELCOME TO THE DARK WEB.

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WELCOME TO THE DARK WEB.

Who: Spock and anyone interested in the aforementioned technology plot.
Where: Mostly around the port, because you have to really lean into the Gothic Romance of it.
What: Local nerds build a computer and a system of their own to exercise privacy online for everyone with mixed results.
Warnings: TBD. None so far, unless you want to count Spock veering into poeticisms inevitably in metatext.

[ chances are, if you're curious, you've been seeing a handful of ciphers cropping up around aldrip.

they start in places most chosen would frequent, spiral out to areas more remote in the coming days. but, no matter which ones you encounter, they all seem to written in the same hand. the words, if you can call them that, are jumbled in such a way that it looks impossible to unknot at first. but, there's a odd weight across some of these... messages? the letters look strange and, comparing them over time, you'll find a key.

curious, indeed. someone likes vigenère ciphers.

what it shakes out to is a set of coordinates that will lead you squarely to an abandoned warehouse by the pier, a date, and a time. if you're compelled to go on your own, you might find some of your fellows waiting around with you. if you're not? well, maybe you can take a friend just in case.

either way, you'll get your answers one way or another. ]

( ooc: HELLO FRIENDS. first and foremost, please see the comments and the sub-comments below for week blocking and organizational efforts. if you would like to summon me into your comment, just put spock in the subject line or ping me directly on plurk at

askefise or on discord! i'm usually around in some capacity or another.

other than that: have fun! if you need me to help you brainstorm why your blorbo would show up or how, i'm here for you. time for totally fun and normal times that will not end in any abnormal way whatsoever on the 19th. )

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[ so, you figured it out and arrived at the appointed place and at the appointed time. it's all pretty dramatic, but it's a necessary sort of dramatic, when one gets down to it. in quick summation, because the conversation shouldn't happen more than once in spock's personal opinion, is the following: the goal is to make an independent computing system for the chosen to use in aldrip. it is evident, when reviewing all the information thus far, that there is no reasonable expectation of privacy. the most recent applications that were forced upon the chosen are just another (albeit more benign) example.

most should know by now that remote communication in this place is not possible without the risk of eavesdropping. similarly, there is no known equivalent to the system that is being used here. the coding is recognizable for what it is, but there is nothing familiar about it.

of course, this is just the tip of the metaphorical glacial formation. spock doesn't come around to say these sort of things without a plan in mind and evidently he's thought on how to best to reach the chosen without utilizing what is ostensibly spyware to do it. if those handwritten ciphers everyone was forced to decode was any indication, of course.

unless, you know, you had your friend do it.

either way, it's all to say that rather nondescript corner near the pier that he's pulled everyone around at the edge of the evening is something of a makeshift workshop. and as far as makeshift workshops go, it's extremely organized. almost spotless. when anyone steps in, they'll note that it was likely an old warehouse. it isn't super convenient to access from the pier directly, but it is tucked away among a small maze of buildings past the sea wall. a little gem hidden in plain sight, as it were. maybe he'll explain that he's pulled a few threads here and there doing repair work if asked, but it's probably better not to look too much into it.

welcome to the next two weeks? that is, if you're inclined. ]

[ good with the fussy bits? don't mind challenging your ability not to get electrocuted? aren't afraid of the prospect of dust? well, perhaps building the actual device is more your speed.

while the warehouse isn't necessarily divided between operations, it is most certainly quarantined toward the back. it's for the sake of keeping the components clean (obviously) and those that linger and lean over the carefully kept boxes with their perpetually running filters and gloved up hands want absolutely nothing to do with your detritus. it's for the sake of the delicate wiring and circuitry, which you're bound to know if you're back here, but there's always a few who can't seem to sate their curiosity.

but, more importantly: there too is a work log that sits on this end of the room far and away from the constructed "clean boxes." much like with coding, it details who is working on what and inventories the items that have been used or discarded. those who are working will find that the deliveries and parts they need are almost always impeccably sorted, arranged in a way that is much too intuitive for some to even start wrapping their heads around surely, but it's nice to have regardless?

maybe?

either way, no one is stopping you from pitching in or sparking up a conversation with your station buddy. maybe just make sure to ground all your tools first. ]

[ plop all your week one escapades here. ]

[ plop all your week two escapades here. ]

[ plop all your week one escapades here. ]

[ plop all your week two escapades here. ]

[ not great with your hands? well, you're in luck.

if you know anything at all about code and seem rather reliable, chances are you've been taken aboard after a casual vetting. at least everyone seems to know what they're talking about? either way: while the warehouse itself doesn't resemble the kind of working spaces most individuals in the computing age would be accustomed to, it is very clean. there's a number of tables lined up against the opposing walls, several options for chairs (all mismatched, alas). there's a pretty strict policy about the state of things in here actually, so long as that guy with the pointed ears is around. which, peculiarly enough, he's there a lot.

doesn't he need to sleep? who knows.

anyway: it'll become obvious after a few moments (or hours) that there is a theoretical operating system in play already. at least that saves a lot of time, but there's still a lot of work to be done. skimming through the work log at the coding side of the warehouse will indicate who is already fiddling with what and what needs to be debugged. there is also another set of instructions or suggestions for those who would be more inclined to toy around with a virtual machine. fascinating. looks like they've really thought about potential approaches.

but, maybe you're not inclined to tackle something entirely alone. maybe someone already has a bit and bob you're interested in. maybe there's someone else in the warehouse taking a break or chatting with their fellow code monkey in the corner. either way, whatever device you're using to tool around, you've got the freedom to lean into other projects or throw in suggestions. don't be shy.

also, leave your drinks and food outside. if you're gonna get delivery, there's a pier you can sit on and some repurposed chairs. don't be a slob. ]

[ plop all your week one escapades here. ]

[ plop all your week two escapades here. ]

Edited 2024-05-04 16:20 (UTC)

[ anyone entering the abandoned warehouse (if you can call it that - it's so clean on the inside?) will note one of two things: 1. there is a "drop box" for deliveries, 2. the drop box is situated just under a salvaged corkboard.

in the middle of it, there is a standard "needs" list pinned at a precise angle with what looks to be a sewing needle. whoever wrote it has impeccable script and a steady hand, because there's no mistaking the items as written.

- gloves (w/o latex)
- plexiglass
- wiring (see pg. 3 for number and specifications)
- portable lighters
- filters
- wire glue
- glue syringes

and so on.

of course, this list is not the only bit of paper stuck to the board. there's likely to be several more, all in different hands and grades of legibility. whatever you pick up might be totally useless to the lot of them, but you might recognize a friend wants something. or, maybe, you're just peering in and looking at a bunch of hyper-focused nerds and decide maybe they should go take a break and eat something.

whatever you decide, you're free to linger around after. provided you're mindful of the equipment and don't fuck with anything that isn't nailed (metaphorically or literally) down, that is.

it's for your own safety, really. ]

[ okay, so it isn't really a break room. it's a pier with a couple of chairs nearby and a makeshift table if you go down the winding stairs toward the coast. but, the ocean breeze is nice and the ships come in at regular enough intervals that you can sometimes take yourself shopping. if you're particularly observant, you might notice this place is pretty enclosed on all sides by the buildings around it. if you ask, maybe you'll get told it was a logical option out of the ones presented. maybe whoever you ask will talk about environmental controls. who knows.

occasionally, you might bump into your fellows outside. or maybe you've come to take some space. if you're (un)lucky and your timing is just right, maybe you'll walk out to see the guy who decided to lead this operation sitting out toward the edge of the water in the smallest hours of the night. if you're nosey, it might look like he's... meditating?

anyway: aldrip is your oyster and you're free to come and go as you please. just make sure you keep all your nutritional options out here. ]

[ plop all your week one escapades here. ]

[ plop all your week two escapades here. ]

[ plop all your week one escapades here. ]

[ plop all your week two escapades here. ]

[ Matt likes puzzles. Well, really, he likes succeeding at puzzles. He wouldn't have even stumbled over this one, if he hadn't heard someone complaining about these random notes popping up, but he'd eventually found one. Thanks to his super senses, he can feel the ink on the page, the way they seem to be leading to something. It's an itch he wants to scratch, and so he keeps an ear out for others, ends up touching way too many suspect pieces of paper in town (lots of lost cats lately...) but eventually, eventually finds his way here.

Wherever here is. It's so sketchy that it's in this warehouse far outside of where anyone could hear you scream he thinks he might get jumped (wouldn't that be fun?)--I mean, this is the kind of place he'd jump someone, so this is a logical assumption for him. ]

Is this the part where everyone jumps out and yells "surprise"? Because I'm still waiting for the dramatic finish.

[ Spock's been prepping for this for a while now, and Jim is both excited by the prospect of the project, and wary of what might happen. As with anything, this endeavor has its positives, and its negatives. Given what Jim has been told happened with the attempted bombing of city hall, unleashing a pandora's box of untraceable communication is...well. Surely anyone can see why he has his reservations.

But it's what needs to happen, the pros outweighing the cons, and Jim's backing Spock's play. He's busy soldering delicate pieces together, some of the internal wiring that needs a steady, practiced hand. Where the rest of the room is in impeccable order, Jim's workstation is organized chaos; bits of wire and computer parts scattered across the table, tools loosely arranged as whatever-he-might-need-within reach.

The atmosphere back here is also a little...looser than the one up front, probably due to the music Jim is playing from a beat-up radio he fished out of a dumpster and coaxed back to life. He doesn't recognize most of the music, though he's settled on a big bang swing station that crackles on occasion, but doesn't seem to run any ads.

If anyone happens to need assistance or might need a guiding hand on where to start, well, he looks like he knows what he's doing? ]

[ Jim's eyes are honestly starting to blur with all the code he's been reviewing; the system Aldrip's network runs on is a weird amalgamation of a shitload of different coding languages. Practically everything under the sun, and then some - bits of code he doesn't recognize, having to reverse engineer certain sections to understand it. It's as tedious as it is invigorating (he does love a good coding puzzle, but goddamn).

Still, Jim's been making progress. They have to write their own operating system from scratch, but integrate it enough with the current system to be able to tap into the network and hijack a strong enough signal that the new, secret network can have the range it needs to be useful. He's drafted a list of shorthand for Spock's new Dark Web that's been printed on handouts (actual, physical paper! He feels like a spy from a period film, between physical notes and Spock's dramatic ciphers), and whenever someone new walks in, Jim uses it as an excuse to look away from his display. ]

Welcome to fight club! Here's our crib sheet; I'm Jim, let me know if there's anything I can help with.

[ Tinkering Peter can do. Fixing things and putting things together? That's his jam. While he's self-taught, growing up around space pirates means you pick up a thing or two through sheer necessity. It also means that Kirk's controlled chaos draws his eye, and the choice of working to music is one Peter can relate to, too.

This guy seems to know what's up! ]

Hey, dude! [ Peter calls over the music. Please note, he will never ask you to turn it down. ] You need any help with anything?

[ Peter is here through sheer dumb luck. Okay, maybe some part of him saw the fliers and tried staring at them really hard, but when no such answer was forthcoming and his visor can't connect the dots, he figures this has to be some kind of alien code he's just not up on.

So it's lucky that he's made it this far, really. Maybe he tagged along with a friend -- new or otherwise. Either way, decoding is not one of Peter's many skills, so when he gets there, he is definitely trailing behind, or perhaps even leading the way, with someone who actually solved the puzzle. (You.) ]

This is it, right? We made it!

[ Feel free to assume your journey was as long or short as you like. ]

[ Jim inclines his head slightly at the voice, the new arrival blessedly making himself heard over the music and the mild buzz of the soldering iron. He's careful not to interrupt what he's doing until the line is complete, welding the newest component to the board he's working on. Then, Jim looks up, goggles obscuring his face, until he reaches up to push them to the top of his head, exposing baby blues, and offering Peter a welcoming smile. ]

Yeah, man, plenty of work to go around! Pull up a chair.

[ Jim pats the stool next to him, wiping his face on the back of his hand - it leaves a small dark streak on his cheek, soot or oil, most likely - but he doesn't seem to notice. ]

Name's Jim, Jim Kirk. Nice to meet you.

[Cracking the ciphers had been interesting, a matter of brief curiosity until he had found himself examining the warehouse. Translating coded messages is within his realm, but quickly it seems that this little project is beyond his capabilities the more he looks into it.

Vincent makes zero effort to announce himself. He slips in, observes, works on determining the point of this organization. It seems to be something that does benefit the non-natives, and he is keen to aid in that regard. However, Vincent has no interest in revealing himself.

So, he merely slips out, returning in the dead of night to drop off some parts of the list to the drop box. No announcements, just him being a quiet weirdo to make sure this project is functioning. He can't make anything, but he can at least provide supplies. Nobody has to know it's him!]

I'm afraid I won't be much help with any of that stuff, [ Claude says, nodding at what Jim is working on. For once, this isn't Claude purposefully downplaying his own abilities; as someone who is still in the process of figuring out the damn phones they've been given, unused to buttons and flat screens, fingers aching for a fountain pen and a piece of parchment, he knows where his talents lie. And they're not here. ]

But I see you've been quick to get yourself situated, Captain. All-in on the conspiracy theories, are we? [ He brandishes a little cardboard tray with him, studded with paper cups. ]

Consider me a glorified errand boy. I've got coffee and tea and all of the fixings. What's your poison?

Oh! Hey man. [ Jim scrubs a hand over blurry eyes, offering Claude a flash white teeth; they've been getting all kinds all day, and frankly Jim's just glad enough people figured out the codes and thought it was worth their time. ] I don't know, you might pick it up quicker than you think.

I've got a decent background with all this nonsense, least I can do. [ Jim doesn't need to be told twice, very gratefully picking up one of the coffees with a groan of appreciation. ] Absolute lifesaver; you're officially my favorite. Don't tell Spock.

[ Jim blows over the cup, humming for a moment. ] Well, as far as conspiracy theories go...makes a helluva lot of sense to me. If we can pull it off, that is.

Edited 2024-05-07 05:38 (UTC)

[ While Claude isn't especially helpful on the technological side of affairs, one thing he is good at is getting things done behind the scenes. Which is how the intrepid coders will run into him from time to time, heaving bags of supplies along with him.

On most occasions, it's not just supplies he's lugging in. On times like this, he makes a second journey and comes back carrying bags of food and drinks, announcing: ]

Okay, everyone, I've got sandwiches, and I've got caffeine! Take five and get some! Empty stomachs make for shoddy work.

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Page 1 of 4

WELCOME TO THE DARK WEB.

INTRODUCTION (MINGLE).

BUILDING.

WEEK ONE.

WEEK TWO.

WEEK ONE.

WEEK TWO.

CODING.

WEEK ONE.

WEEK TWO.

FETCH QUEST.

BREAK ROOM.

WEEK ONE.

WEEK TWO.

WEEK ONE.

WEEK TWO.

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Jim Kirk | OPEN

Jim Kirk | OPEN

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