Good evening, dearest Night Vale

The world is a lie. Plastic laps at the minds and hearts of children. Smoke fills your lungs like oxygen. Whispers in tongues unknown fill the nothingness beyond our understanding. The switch is now ON. Welcome, dear listeners, to Zone 2. {{Indie Cecil Palmer OFF/WTNV crossover blog}} M!A: Accepting Single {{ Please read the guidelines before RPing }}

[nilxdesperandum]

Meet the Staff - Andy the elsen

Likes building radios

Stupidly happy about having a name rather than a number

Kind of an idiot but a happy one

Hates spicy food

Almost went Burnt from happiness and terror when Cecil gave him a name

Original name: 10201

[nilxdesperandum]

About Broadcast posts

If you're a mutual, you might end up getting tagged in one of the broadcast posts as a sponsor. If you don't want that, tell me and I will make note of it.

All broadcasts will be under a READ MORE

Broadcasts are weekly, every Tuesday. So if you don't want to see them on your dash, block the tag "broadcast"

If you have a specific message you want for your sponsor message, then feel free to send it to me! I'll keep it on record and use it.

If you have a song you'd like played for the Weather at some point, send that too. 

This is for you guys too, not just me. So if you have any ideas for a story for a broadcast, let me know. Cecil's the voice of Night Vale, but he's also the voice of the Zones. So send in your stories if you have some ideas! 

[nilxdesperandum]

Episode 02 - Sugar Strike

Take a deep breath. Smoke fills your lungs and it is confirmed that you are alive. Alive and real. But what is real? Is this a dream? Is that thing lurking under your bed a figment of your imagination? Who knows. Who. Knows.

Good morning, dear listeners, elsen and guardians and residents alike. 

Today, an elsen in Zone 3 has gone on strike. He attempted to rally others into his worker's strike but others refused due to the fact that rebelling would mean they would be given less wadges, and, well, less money tends to make buying food and other not-completely necessary things very difficult.

Despite the lack of support from his coworkers, the elsen continues to hold his sign, which reads, "Sugar is not pay, my wife is diabetic."

You know, I enjoy stories like this. It shows that we as sentient beings are capable to stand on our own. I, personally, stand behind you, 19837. Fight the man for your dear diabetic wife. 

More on this later

In the science corner today, I spoke to the local scientist of the Zones, a Dr. Mort, yesterday. A charming man, I am sure. I do not actually have anything to add to that statement, as he was quite rude and did not answer any of my questions. Perhaps, one day, we will be able to get an interview with the gentleman regarding his no-doubt interesting and probably illegal research.

Seeing as that was not very scientific, and I do enjoy science quite a bit, let's talk about plastic. That glorious liquid that laps at the edges of our lovely Zones seems to be--Oh. I have just been informed by Assistant Andy that I am not permitted to speak about that.

 I do not see what the problem is, but if it is something that I must not speak of, then I shall cease knowing that which I should not know.

Regarding the workers strike in Zone 3, it seems that one other elsen has joined the movement, and they are now holding hands and singing, "We are strong, we are many" to the tune of "We Will Rock You" by rock legend Queen. 

When asked for a statement, the Guardian of Zone 3 commented, "Those two. They don't even work here. Why are they protesting at a job they do not even work at? They are probably confused, but if they did work for me, they would be fired and eaten."

We asked the elsen about it, but they insisted that they do, indeed, work in Zone 3. Now, listeners, I am not one to question the vague and menacing government agencies that run this fleeting, artificial world that we all inhabit, but, really! Pretending not to know someone is just shameful.

But maybe the elsen really are confused.

Who knows.

And now for traffic.

 It seems out humble little Zone has seen quite a bit of foot-traffic today, and that it should! Our beloved Zone 2 is just as lovely as any other Zone, so it is of no surprise that visitors from one end of the Nothingness to the other are exploring it. Greetings, to all of you. Perhaps we should all get coffee one day.

There also seems to be a traffic jam near the amusement park, where four elsen, addled from the thrilling, unmoving rows of seats, walked into park visitors. One of the elsen says, "I am, hhh, very sorry." And the one that is being spoken to says, "No, no, I am the sorry one." It seems each participant in the accident is simply apologizing to the other.

Expect that exchange to take a while, and, if you and your loved ones are headed in that direction, it is suggested you take a different route.

And now, a message from our sponsors.

Spectres causing you problems? Guardians treating you unfairly? Against the color of your Zone's walls and floor? Like the color white? Then call us. We'll clean that mess right up for you, and you don't have to lift a finger.

Call the Batter.

Brought to you by eh-batter-batter and purifyingxbatter

The meat-floating elsen from yesterday, 17639, has just recently applied for a position here after being fired by Zone 1's Guardian for contaminating the meat supply. I appreciate the pluck of the fellow - and it isn't like we have meat here that he can contaminate.

So, Intern "Steve" as Andy calls him is now a proud member of the radio station. Congratulations, Steve. Welcome aboard.

I am certain he will fit in nicely with our little family. 

And now, the weather.

Welcome back, folks.

On-strike workers at Zone 3's sugar plant have surrendered. Apparently, when the Guardian of the Zone arrived to rectify the situation, the protesting elsen realized they did, in fact, have the wrong place of work as their boss was much smaller than the Guardian. The elsen in question were so embarrassed by this, that they went Burnt.

They were escorted from the premises, presumably to be dropped into the Nothingness until they calmed down. I tried to get an interview with them, but all they did was wheeze and say "help" so I figured it would be best to just leave them be until they came back to their senses.

So, for people traversing between Zones, approach Zone 3's eastern entrance with caution. It would be best to avoid that for a while.

What we should take away from this horrible train-wreck of an incident is...treat each other nicely. Give your workers correct pay. Listen. Listen. Listen to them and their needs. If we as people just took a moment to remove our fingers from our ears, to listen to the wheezing "help"s from those around us, situations like this could be handled peacefully.

So listen, listeners. Open your ears, look them in the eye, and listen. 

Hold their hands when loved ones pass.

Comfort them in their times of need.

Listen. 

Stay tuned for three hours of the sound of the depths of the plastic sea.

Good night, Zone 2. Good night.

[themothofthezones-deactivated20]

Hello nilxdesperandum

"You seem quite weird, sir. Of course, this is coming from a humanoid moth, so I don’t really have any room to talk. Compared to me, you look quite normal. Although, normal isn’t quite normal around here." She giggles and grins at her own statement.

[nilxdesperandum]

Ah! Another resident of the Zones it appeared. She seemed pleasant enough, and, well...yes. She was a humanoid moth. Strange. He hoped she didn't want to nibble on his lavender tie, and quickly and silently scolded himself. No one liked having stereotypes attached to them.

"Hello there, Miss. I assure you that I am just as normal as I appear - and just as normal as you yourself are. If I had a dollar for every humanoid moth I had had the honor of speaking to, I would be able to retire."

That wasn't true. 

"I am Cecil Palmer - a radio host stationed in Zone 2. And you?"

[stewingingarbage]

nilxdesperandum started following you

[stewingingarbage]

Why was he smiling. That wasn’t okay. He’s slightly offended, but only pouts his lower lip.

"PFF, YEAH, NO SHIT. That’s me. I’m the science guy, just my name isn’t fuckin’ Bill Nye." He snorts, lower hands resting against his hips with middle and top merely dangled uselessly.

"Radio announcer my fat arse. What, are you here to interview me? I’ll eat the microphone. I’ll fuckin’ do it. Watch me. I’m gonna do it.”

[nilxdesperandum]

"Well, it certainly wouldn't be the first time someone has eaten a microphone. Sadly." Cecil said, sounding (and looking) mildly upset about the loss of the previous one. And the one before that. But that was neither here nor there, and he had much more pressing matters to attend to.

"Repeat instances sort of lose charm after a while, you know." He folded his arms over his chest and looked up at the fly-man. "But, no. I am not here to interview you as charming a interviewee you might be." He wondered if his passive aggression would go unnoticed.

He didn't particularly care though. The man was quite rude after all. He continued, trying to remain pleasant. "I was merely curious as to what, exactly, you studied here, Mister....?"

[stewingingarbage]

nilxdesperandum started following you

"Aren’t you a freaky fucker. What you want, you pleb."

>:^\

[nilxdesperandum]

"Pleb!"

[He huffs, mildly insulted. But he recovers quickly and gives a strained smile]

I am merely exploring this new area that my assistant, Andy, has told me about. You see, sir, I am a radio announcer, and I heard that there is a very unique scientist in the area. And I am incredibly interested in science. So here I am. And I am assuming that you are the scientist?

[nilxdesperandum]

Canon for this Cecil Palmer:

His radio station is located near the library, just a small buildingstuck between two larger ones with a tall radio tower that can be seen from the entrance of the Zone.

It appeared when Cecil first arrived, and color returned to the Zone possibly due to a corruption in the save file Cecil played. Because of this, the elsen that live there think of him as a sort of Guardian, even if he is not. He doesn't quite understand why they look up to him so much, and just thinks that elsen are very friendly.

If radios are used in other Zones, his radio show, "Good Evening, Zone 2" can be heard every day. 

Andy the elsen is a intern at his very small radio station.

[tabagisme-travailleur-deactivat]

+1

nilxdesperandum entered the mines

Oh….uh, h-hello. I don’t think I’ve seen you before; who- who are you?

[nilxdesperandum]

Ah! Another citizen of the Zones! it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Cecil Palmer, the voice of Zone 2 if you will. I was merely in the area to check on the poor fellow who took a swim in the meat fountain. And who are you?

[nilxdesperandum]

Greetings, and good evening

The meat fountains are churning, and you will stare into it's depths and long for things you do not understand. 

Welcome, to Zone 2.

Good evening, listeners. Today has been a rather uneventful day here in the Zones. The skies have been clear all day it seems, and the possibly-plastic sun hangs low over the plastic sea surrounding our peaceful Zone. The Nothingness has not changed at all, but reports have stated that the whispering voices seem to be growing restless.

Walk carefully, travelers. I fear for those that venture into that void with nothing, and I send to all of you well-wishes and hope for your return to wherever it is that you came from. Remember to purchase Luck Tickets and Fortune Tickets as well as fresh meat from our local merchant before exploring the vast unknown.

In other news, an elsen was found floating in the meat fountain of Alma this morning. The elsen was unharmed and conscious, and when questioned as to how he had ended up drifting along on the waves of freshly ground meat, he responded simply with a vacant stare. I asked him again how he ended up there, and he finally spoke, voice haunted and eyes wide like saucers as he whispered,

"I just wanted to see if I could."

I commend this brave soul for that! We never get anywhere without some healthy amount of curiosity after all. I can only hope the Zone's guardian does not punish him too severely for it. 

And now--Oh. [He looks up when an elsen with headphones on hands him a scribbled note.] I have just been handed a note that says--Hm. It appears that the Radio Tower has a visitor. While I see who our guest is, here is the weather.

[He turns off the microphone and and turns on a strange track of music before removing his headphones, once dusty from disuse, and standing. Humming a bit, he takes the stairs from the small, cramped recording booth down to the first floor.

Without a moment of hesitation, he pushes open the door with some difficulty, the heavy door scraping across the ground. He steps out and looks around before smiling at the guest the elsen had mentioned.]

Hello there! I can't say that I've seen you around before. Or, well, anyone. Can I help you with something?