To the person who reads this:
My name is Soup and I am aboard a space ship called "The Lopez." With me are my fellow crew mates, the Galaxolotls. We have seen so much war, so much... dust... all around our quarters, the observatory, and even in the depths of the "basement." That's right, there seems to be a basement on this ship!
The uncanniness does not end there, dear person who is reading this: we have been subject to the whims of a certain seagull, one with a penchant of getting lost. I am hiding in the cargo hold as we speak — I feel that he is orchestrating something sinister, pitting our crew against other crews on this space ship in search of these things he calls "mission tokens."
He is now demanding items and to appease his requests, we have entered the west division in hopes of finding all he asks for. We have had to search for numerous things on this ship! Preposterous things like... shopping carts, barbecue grills, and even a slice of bread. Why would any of these things be on "The Lopez?" is what I thought before this seagull blew his whistle. And oh, dear person... what a fire it lit under my and my crew mates' behinds! We ran all around, dug through the boxes, screamed so loudly you could hear it from Earth. We found all these objects in the most decrepit, neglected of corners. In the most abandoned rooms.
We emerged with the seagull's items, but had disappeared yet again into the darkness. We are worried he may come for us again.
Please, if you read this letter: send us some reinforcements. We cannot escape the grasp of this seagull without your help. If you cannot come yourself, please keep an eye out for any straggling or missing Galaxolotls. We will need your watchful eyes. In fact, I may be able to feel your eyes watching over us already...
With utmost urgency,
Soup