What's on the Disk?

When they look closely at the disk, read the following:
It looks like an old-style minidisk—you’d guess it’s maybe twenty to twenty-five years old. This is the kind of stuff your parents—or maybe even your grandparents—had hanging around
the house when you were a kid.

When they first attempt to access the contents of the disk, read the following:
For a few seconds you hear nothing, then your ears are assaulted by a cacophonous mix of pops, crackles, and squeals, punctuated by the occasional loud blast of guitar or voice for
just a couple of seconds at very low fidelity. It’s obvious the disk contains some kind of music file, but there’s no way you’re going to make out anything else from it the way it is now.

When they successfully break the first level of encryption, read the following:
You all stand around, staring at the speaker in anticipation. After a moment, the music begins to play. The pops and crackles are still there and the quality hasn’t gotten a whole lot better,
but now you can clearly make out the melody and even some of the lyrics of the songs.

The music is haunting—hard-edged rock with a moody, introspective tone, heavy on synths and melancholy atmospheric backgrounds. The singer is male and his voice is perfect for this kind of sound: deep, melodic, with just enough of a rough edge to it that you can tell he’s been through a lot in his life.

You recognize the style as one that hasn’t been popular for several years, but even though it’s not what you’re used to grooving to, the sounds are infectious. You sit spellbound through seven songs, each one the same blend of rock riffs and contemplative, angsty sadness. You feel like you’re listening to somebody’s psychoanalysis session set to music. The talent this person has is unmistakable.

What's on the Disk?

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