<strong>Your Cubicle<br/>Falling<br/>Somewhere Over Antarctica</strong><br/><br/>Before the airplane had thrown your cubicle loose, the pilot had said that your altitude was three kilometers.  Perhaps you had retained a clear enough head to perform the appropriate calculations, and determined that it would take just over half a minute for you to hit ice, smashing yourself to bits in the process.  Even if you survived impact -- even if you survived uninjured -- you would be trapped in the desolate wastes of Lake Vostok in a freak blizzard.  At least the burning wreckage of the plane may provide some temporary warmth before the unending polar night claimed you.<br/><br/>Thirty seconds came and went, and still you were falling.  A minute passed, and then two, then five, and yet you and your cubicle still hung suspended in freefall.  Even if you were not well versed in the equations of motion, even if you were too panicked to wonder how long it would take before you became a bloody smear on the ice shelf, you would have to know that if you've been falling for over five minutes and still have no hit the ground, something was not right.  Snow, lit by the light in your cublicle shining out through a small tear in the wall, could be seen as small white blurs streaking by against the inky blackness of a night blizzard.  Sometimes the snow streaked up, other times to the right or left.<br/><br/>Another five minutes passed uneventfully.<br/><br/>The cubicle vibrated, a slight tremor you probably would not notice unless you were touching one of the inner surfaces.  And then you hit the unseen ground, but it was not nearly as vicious an impact as you had imagined.  One moment you were floating, and the next you fell to the "floor" of the cubicle.  The force of your fall was no greater than if you had just jumped off a low hanging tree branch.  Definitely not hard enough to cause injury, excepting sprains from an awkward landing of course.  Even the best athlete could roll her ankle if she landed on the side of her foot.<br/><br/>Now settled on the ground, you'd notice that the door had been wrenched loose during the release from the airplane and the ensuing fall.  It bulged outward slightly, revealing gently falling snow through the cracks; no wind.  A good shove or kick could force the door open.<br/><br/>Outside, you'd find other cubicles scattered around you: the rooms of the other passengers on the plane.  Not all of them were present; the plane had held dozens, but there were only ten cubicles here that you could see, scattered around you in an area smaller than a square acre.  From the outside, they looked much the same as they did on the inside, although they each had a number between 1 and 30 painted on their side.  It was pitch black outside, but you could see the immediate area relatively well from the light that leaked through the cracks of your cubicle and the others.  Beyond the cubicles, the area was pitch black. The ground underfoot was flat and covered in nearly a meter of snow, but the air was surprisingly calm.  Above, the sky was paradoxically clear, revealing a pristine tapestry of stars that ran from one horizon to the other.  There were no clouds or any source of the blizzard and snowfall.  Nonetheless, the air was bitterly cold, probably colder than you'd ever felt before.  Warmth was a priority, lest you freeze to death.<br/><br/>To the west, a miniscule red smear of light marred the horizon, easily several kilometers away.  It looked like fire.  To the east, a pinprick of light blinked between red and white on top of a thin tower.  It was much closer, but still at least a kilometer away.<br/><br/>Four of the cubicles remained closed.  Numbers painted on the outside labeled them as #1, #7, #18, and #19.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">OOC</div><div class="spoiler_body">Just so everything is clear: You and the other five players are able to leave your cubicle; you're all in the same general area.  The cubicles are scattered about, no more than a dozen meters from the others.  Despite the lack of clouds, a thin snow is falling, and there's no wind.  I'm assuming all of the player characters leave their cubicles, which means that four of the ten cubicles remain closed.  Is someone (or something) in them?  Are they empty?  Only one way to find out...  BTW, unless you've worked out some kind of backstory prior to the events of this game, none of your characters have ever met.<br/><br/><br/>Hint: Those of you who've explored your MOBA's may recall that they have a built-in compass.</div></div>