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singillppl2024-08-07 09:42 pm
singmod) wrote in singillppl2024-08-07 09:42 pm
Entry tags:
August 2024 Test Drive Meme
AUGUST 2024 TDM
PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: Yet another new group of arrivals find themselves lost in the frozen wilds and vulnerable to the dangers of nature. With luck, they make it to the town of Milton, and to a friendly face offering food, warmth and shelter — not to mention the fact they are not the first to come here.
PROMPT TWO — TEA TIME: A mysterious stranger offers Interlopers some tea by her fire, with... unexpected results.
PROMPT THREE — YOU LYING NEXT TO ME: Thawing and quake activity in the Northern Territories make for a deadly mix, particularly with bodies of water.
ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST
WHEN: Mid-month.
WHERE: Milton, Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potential animal attacks, potential injuries, potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk.
'You are the Interloper. You are not part of nature’s design.'
It’s the last thing you hear. A dark, deep voice. Impossibly ancient. You feel afraid. Maybe you’re dreaming, maybe you’re wide awake. You saw the lights, and then your world went dark. But you hear it in the blackness, you won’t forget those words. You will later learn that these are the words of The Darkwalker, a malevolent being that exists in this world. It knows of your presence here, and you will be far worse off for it.
You awaken. You are not where you were before. It’s different for everyone, there doesn’t seem to be much of a pattern in where you find yourself. You may open your eyes to find yourself in a cold, dim and dank cabin. The air is stale, dust hangs in the rays of weak sunlight that shine through the tiny windows. Someone lived here once, but they aren’t to be found. You look around, it seems like no one has been here in several weeks, maybe longer. The fire is stone cold, the dishes in the sink are mouldy — it's possible the place has been ransacked, as if they've gone through the drawers and cupboards looking for something. It is quiet. The wood creaks around you. Or perhaps you may awaken to find yourself shivering in the yawning maw of a cave, the freezing stone below you. Or maybe you’re unfortunate enough to sit up to find yourself lying in the snow, in the middle of the wilderness. Snow lies thick around you. It’s freezing out. You haven’t felt a cold like this before in your entire life. Cruel and biting. You have no idea where you are, and what’s worse — you are completely alone.
You may feel different, too. Any powers or magics you may have feel... absent. Disconnected. Things that may not have affected you previously now do. Something in you has changed.
You know you can’t stay where you are. You’ll need to move, try to work out where you are and how you came to be here. So you walk, head out into the unknown, in hope of finding a trail or a road. Interlopers who arrive in the month of August will find that there is often disturbances and damage to the earth and roads — often similar to that found following quake activity. Care should be taken in finding your way.
Soon enough, you'll be able to find a path to town. A little more worse for wear, but alive. It’s here you may find someone else in the same boat as yourself, equally freezing and confused — battered from the journey. You’ll both need to keep going. It won’t be easy. You hear howls of wolves around you, and the terrain is difficult: slips and falls are likely. You’re completely vulnerable out here in the open.
Or it’s possible you may come across someone else here. Someone who looks far better prepared to deal with the freezing cold and frozen landscape, out hunting or gathering. They’ll likely offer help and get you into town. However, for the unlucky ones who don’t come across anyone, you’ll carry on until you smell it through the fog: the scent of smoke that seems to cling in the still air. Fire. Not just one, but several perhaps. Civilization...?
Follow it, and soon enough the way you’ve taken will certainly become a path or road. Unfolding before you in the foggy mountainous forests, you’ll see the most welcome of sights, even if it may appear a little eerie in the half-light gloom: a small mining town tucked up in the valley. Battered, rusted road signs will direct to “MILTON, POP. 947”. You’re almost there, you keep going, and it looks like other people have had the same idea as you. In fact, you’ll hear the muffled sounds of life. People! In the town!
As you head into the outskirts and then further into town, you’ll find it’s a little easier to walk but the cold has gripped you hard. You’ll find the buildings, both shops and homes, some are dark and lifeless, some of them are boarded up, some of them are occupied. People are going about their business, or stood watching from their tiny porches of their small, timber homes. For a town this big, there doesn’t seem to be many people. Several dozen at most, but no more. Some of them will direct you to the Community Hall, tell you to head there — you've been expected.
Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building where many people seem to gather: a community hall, by the looks of it. You’ll find more and more people all drawn to this place, each and every one of them in the same position as yourself (and your companion, if you’ve found one). Some are in worse states than others: some are bloodied, nursing bite wounds or cuts; others might have some other kind of injury sustained in the journey here from falls. Everyone looks as though they could faint from the cold at any second, damp and shivering.
The door opens, and you’re greeted by the gnarled, wizened face of an elderly man, dressed in thick furs. He has a kind face, but looks sad. He smiles warmly despite the sadness in him, and with pity, ushering you in with haste.
“As I suspected, another batch of poor souls from the wilds.” he nods gravely. No, this is not the first time that this has happened. “I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. The lights are changing things, bringing more of you here. Come, we must get you warm and fed. Mother Nature has not been kind.”
The room is dim, lit only by natural daylight through the windows. A roaring fire sits at one end of the huge hall. It crackles, bright and cheerful... and warm. Even as big as this place is, the room is pleasantly warm. You’ll also find basic cots set up down one side of the hall, and while it seems there's a few people already living here, there's enough space for those in need of them. There's places to rest for a moment and get your bearings, or just trying to recover from the cold.
Down the other side are tables and chairs, and long tables offering food, and drinks similar to one might find at a soup kitchen. Once again, Methuselah offers a feast, aided by some of the other Interlopers. Newcomers will hear from others of Feasts held before, but the offering this month are… somewhat meagre. Newcomers will hear from others of Feasts held before, but the offering this month are… somewhat meagre. There are canisters with hot herbal teas and perhaps a rare canister of coffee. Soup and stew are on offer, but little in the way of charred/grilled meats. What little game Interlopers already here have caught has been used wisely to stretch it further. There is grilled fish, however. That is the most plentiful, it seems. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast.
The old man has been busy. And Methuselah will continue to busy himself, still; there is plenty to do. He will fetch blankets, tend to wounds, serve food and drinks. He does not have much time to talk. More and more people seem to be coming in from the cold. He will not stop to sit and rest until everyone is seen to, taking up a place by the fire to gaze silently into its flames. He is very troubled, thoughtful. Much has been happening. The others from town will eventually trail in too, to eat and warm themselves, and search among the new faces.
He will encourage newcomers to get warm and eat, and when they are ready to — they can explore the town and find one of the many empty homes to call their own. He will not speak much. Methuselah seems exhausted. Life within the Northern Territories has been very difficult for all who dwell here. But perhaps you might be able to get some answers from those fellow arrivals who’ve been in this place for some time now.
TEA TIME
WHEN: Mid-month — end of the month.
WHERE: Milton area; Lakeside area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: altered/magical drinks; loss of inhibitions; physical age changes; body horror/animal attributes; memory sharing; possible fourth-wall breaking; future visions;
It is incredibly rare to come across others in the Northern Territories, but certainly not unheard of. Even if the town of Milton had lost what seems to be its entire population before the arrival of Interlopers, there are still others native to this place out in the world. Young Bill and Methuselah are proof of that, as are the Forest Talkers — who have a tense relationship with the Interlopers, to put it lightly. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think that there could be more.
The old woman appears to be one of them, wrapped in many layers of synthetic clothing and furs. You may come across her as she wanders through the world, or perhaps find her huddled around a campfire in the depths of the wilderness. If one were to hazard a guess, they’d assume she were some kind of nomad like Methuselah.
She’s friendly sort; that’s the first impression you make of her. It’s safe to conclude she isn’t with the Forest Talkers. She regards arrivals with wide eyes, beckoning Interlopers to come join her by the fire. Softly spoken, with a mumbling quiet voice. It might seem like she’s not all there, and seems harmless enough. Perhaps a little lonely. Who isn’t in this place? She is mostly curious about the Interlopers themselves and will be interested in hearing about them, asking them questions about their worlds and lives. She’s a very keen and attentive listener.
As conversation grows, she will boil some snow for water upon her fire. With all this talk, what better way than to add some tea to it? The weather is getting colder, too. Something hot will stave off the chill. Out of her rucksack, she will pull out a carved wooden box. It is something quite precious to her, and within it are several small metal tins. She will show it to the Interlopers, and inside there will be different blends of herbal tea. She will ask which of the teas you would like to drink.
The choice is yours, Interlopers. But drinking one of these teas will have… unexpected results.
BURDOCK TEA: An earthy and bittersweet tea, with a slightly nutty flavour. Drinking this tea will pull away any inhibitions and mental filters and make you more susceptible to speaking your mind and being more honest with those around you. Maybe you want to tell someone how much they suck, or maybe you want to confess your feelings to someone. Maybe you just really want to air out your grievances about your life or current situation. And they say alcohol will loosen tongues.
HERBAL TEA: This miscellaneous ‘herbal’ smells pretty fragrant, but you can’t quite tell what’s all in its blend. This tea will show you a random moment from your future. This might be something immediate within the Northern Territories, or it may be a moment of your future within your own world. The vision itself will only last for a few moments, and then fade into black.
ROSEHIP TEA: A sweet and floral tea with a tangy aftertaste. This tea will show you a moment of your past, replaying it out before you as if you are watching it like one watches a movie. It may be a happier time, a fond memory of sorts. Or perhaps it will be your worst memory ever: a failing, a wrong decision, a difficult or upsetting time in your life. What’s more, is that anyone drinking this very same tea with you will also experience this moment with you.
REISHI TEA: A bitter tea with a woody flavour. This tea will change your appearance physically in some way. It may be something small like changing your eye or hair colour. It may go even more extreme and temporarily give you some kind of animal features: ears, scaly skin or a tail.
BIRCH BARK TEA: A pleasant wintergreen drink that tastes faintly like rootbeer. Drinking this tea will change your physical age. You may revert to a younger version of yourself, or become an older version of yourself.
Once drinking the tea, you will find yourself alone. The fire is almost embers beside you. You will find that you will never come across the old woman again, no matter how hard you try to find her.
YOU LYING NEXT TO ME
WHEN: The month of August.
WHERE: Everywhere. And specifically: Milton Basin, ponds around Milton Outskirts; Lakeside Lake, misc. Water sources.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potential injuries, potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk; potential partial nudity.
There has been an instability in the earth as of late. Interlopers have been made aware of the fact that the Northern Territories have been victim to quakes in the past. But lately, there has been new seismic activity, which has not helped matters. In Lakeside, it is certainly more obvious to see: sections of the railway track that run through the area have buckled, roads are damaged and undrivable and the bridge that leads out towards the coast has crumbled away.
But the damage extends beyond the roads and railway tracks, something which Interlopers will, unfortunately, discover as they go out travelling or exploring the world.
It is hard to tell which part of the ground will give way, it often happens without warning. Interlopers will simply be out walking and the ground will suddenly collapse from beneath them into small pits and ravines. They’re easy enough to climb out of for the most part, but Interlopers are in danger of sprains and even broken bones if they don’t land right. But they may end up being completely submerged in the snow, leaving them not too worse for wear but very cold. They’ll certainly need to be dug out, and hopefully, they’re not left for too long, either. Hopefully some kind-hearted stranger may find them.
The most dangerous of all are the frozen lakes, ponds and streams. It feels like the Northern Territories have been a place of endless winter. The snow has never left, and the thick ice of almost all water sources remains. While certain smaller bodies of water have thawed enough for Interlopers to fish, most have remained in a permanent state of frozen solidity. Interlopers have been free to walk across the ice untroubled. But the quakes have… endangered the solidity of what seemed to be unmeltable ice.
What was once a rare safe bet will become no more. Unsuspecting Interlopers travelling or exploring these ‘frozen’ waters may find themselves in for a nasty surprise. Without warning, the ice will creak and groan beneath their feet — the sound echoing, a strange kind of sharp snap. Then, with a groan, the ice will give way: plummeting whichever poor soul stands upon it down into the frigid waters below.
Such cold water is dangerous no matter the depth, but some will be much luckier than others. Some of the smaller ponds within the Northern Territories will only reach waist or chest height, but the much deeper bodies of water like the Basin and Lakeside Lake will prove far deadlier. Getting victims out of the waters is half the battle, trying to do so risks yourself. Many may find themselves falling in with their companions — and although a way out can be achieved, the harder part is warmth.
Getting the poor souls who fall victim to falling into the water or trapped in the snow indoors and close to a fire is a good start. Building a fire takes time, though. It could be a while before a roaring fire is going. So alternate plans might need to be put into action. Let’s hope there are some dry blankets nearby, and it’d be a good idea to get out of any soaked clothes before they freeze on a person.
They do say that sharing body heat is also a good way of heating up a person who’s suffering from the cold. Hypothermia is deadly, after all. Skin-on-skin contact works best, wrapped up in blankets. Who has time for getting awkward about it? Getting cosy might just save someone’s life.
FAQs
1. Arrival threads can be treated as game canon.
2. Items characters have brought from home can be found either strewn around them when they awaken, or in the community hall — as if someone left them out for them to collect. Methuselah will not know how they got there, and will be quite bemused by the happenings.
3. Reminder that all characters are now depowered upon arrival. They can choose not to notice it at first, or can immediately sense something is different about them.
4. If asked any personal questions, Methuselah will smile and say "Oh, you don't want to know about an old man like me. But I have lived all over in these parts for all my life." He will be more concerned with trying to help Newcomers, and is genuinely concerned for them and their well-being. Other Interlopers will say much of the same — there's little to know about him.
5. More information about Milton can be found here.
1. The effects of the Burdock, Reishi and Birch Bark teas will last for 24 hours.
2. Physical changes to characters (ie. getting animal ears) will be purely aesthetic.
1. For those down in the Basin, there is a small hut/shack with a fireplace that Interlopers can use for refuge to warm up. Shelter in other places isn't too far off. Best get warmed up quickly!
2. Interlopers already in-game with the Cold Fusion Feat won't be susceptible to cold damage/hypothermia if they fall into the waters but will also not be able to warm up their fellow Interlopers who end up taking an icy plunge.
3. Interlopers already in-game with the Lightbringer or Moon Touched Feats will be hugely beneficial/vital in warming up their fellow Interlopers who fall into the waters.
no subject
"D'you know, Tom Zane, I do believe you'd find your way anywhere at all."
If he's going to sit and have a chat, the Doctor simply cannot be entirely idle, which sometimes means the simplest of movements, like his hands fidgeting a bit in his lap as they talk.
What a question, though, for someone who travels across time. He has no use for years, but it's only because he's been in this world as long as he has that he can actually answer this one.
"Technically, 2015 here. But considering so many have been displaced from other worlds, other times, it's all an amalgamation anyway. The year here is less important. It was the year three thousand and twenty two for me, but six months ago, I popped by Venice in the 18th century to see a man about a chicken. A week later, it took me a month to spend a day traversing the singing mountains of Arcanus IV. I feel time, that's how I keep track. Or I did, before this."
He does keep that watch on his left wrist, though. Force of habit.
"— tea! Sorry, I was making tea. Keep talking." He hops up and disappears around the corner to get a small kettle boiling.
no subject
Tom believes the other. Perhaps he shouldn't--perhaps the tale is too impossible--but Tom knows truth when he sees it, knows that the impossible is very much possible. He's proof of that.
"I want to hear more about feeling time," he confesses, transfixed. There's something here, he thinks. A commonality. Another artist working in the same medium as he is. The doctor moves and swerves about, but aside from gesturing wildly, Tom's fairly still. The fall into the lake, the cold, it doesn't much matter to Tom at all anymore.
"A good story warms better than a fire."
no subject
He says nothing yet while the tea brews, he simply holds up a finger that seems to say, hold that thought, I'll be right with you, all the while grinning and spinning about in that small kitchen that's not nearly big enough for him. The whole universe wouldn't be big enough for him, though.
The mug gets handed over promptly once it's all brewed, and he sits across from him again. "Then I'll tell you a story, Tom." He folds his hands together, leans in and smiles. "This is a story that could be true." Ah, that is true. Small details.
"We sit here now and we're still for a moment, aren't we? There's quiet. You can get up and walk a straight line to the door, even though beneath your feet, this world is spinning a thousand miles an hour. It's orbiting the sun even faster — that big bright star, out there always, even when you can't see it. Even when the dark seems all that's left. And what do you have in those seconds when we're spinning, when you should fall off into the void but you don't? What fills up the space between us? What leads us from this moment the next? Time. Fragments of time that perch on a wobbly nexus, moments splitting off into other moments, alternate moments, parallel moments. Points that are fixed, that must be, points that can move, that can be changed, rewritten. Who says, though, who knows?"
The Doctor taps the side of his nose with the tip of his index finger. "I feel it. I see it. Everything that is, that was, that could be, that shouldn't be."
He'd called it once the burden of a Time Lord. It's no less heavy, no, but the madness sits comfortably in him. This is who he is. He's come to the end of his long years, he's lost so much. To hold that sort of knowledge in him now feels less like a burden and more like letting out a very long-held breath. Heavy, but it belongs to him. He can carry it. He's learned. Besides, it's all easy enough when it lives behind a touch of whimsy.
"It feels different here, different since I was brought to this world. But it's who I am, who I've always been." He laughs a bit under his breath, wringing his hands together. "Anyway, it feels like holding a slinky, if you must know."
no subject
That's what they are now, friends. There's a connection. A tether. A shared language, a shared understanding, and Tom doesn't know the first thing about the man before him. It doesn't matter to him--what matters is the moment now, here, and the Doctor's words. It's been a long time since he's heard a story that wasn't his, something he didn't have his fingers in.
There's beauty to it, to the Doctor's tale. Those words are tangible to the filmmaker and Tom swears he can taste entire sentences on his tongue: there's explanation and it's honeyed to him. Tom creates.The Doctor, then, shapes. There's a difference in that, beautiful and wild and wonderful and coexisting, but there's something more important.
Understanding.
"Slinkies are great," he says, but he's not talking about a slinky at all. He's been leaning forward, wild curls dried and covering half of his face, far too hypnotized to push them away. He breathes out, shoulders moving in a clear, distinct upwards-downwards motion. There's warmth, now. Tom is unsure if it's the story or the tea. Both, he thinks. He takes a moment before remembering to blink, and lifts the cup to his lips.
"It's different for me, too. I'm... cut off, here, like I said. I shouldn't be." A glance upwards.
"You shouldn't be, either. We should be free."
no subject
No, no, he shouldn't. Sometimes he wants to scream it, yell about it, stamp his foot and be petulant and petty, bearing none of the maturity that his long years should actually contain. He knows this about himself, though, he's very, very aware of his faults. It's why his friends have ever and always been the best of him. How can the Doctor be here, of all places? How and why? What's kept him trapped all this time, what's kept him from his oldest and dearest friend, or rather, what's kept her from him? She would always find him, she was always there, his TARDIS, his old girl.
And she always took him where he needed to go — whatever the reason, this is where he is now. His feet itch to run, his hands long to touch, to flip switches and pull levers and stroke a console that hums with life, that will whirl and spin and phase them all in and out of this space and into another, far from here. Any wise creature would no better than to trap him, but here he is, here he remains, and while the Darkwalker looms as a threat over all, he won't stray from his belief that it's his duty of care to protect them all. Whatever that takes. He reminds himself of that when there's that whisper of I shouldn't be here at the doors of his own mind.
He leans in a bit closer as he speaks, fidgeting with his hands. "Some might call that lost," the Doctor says, rather than confirming or denying he should be free. "We're displaced here, somewhere we don't belong, but anything lost can be found, and that's what we hold onto now. Until you're free, I've got you." Found. Like he said.
Just as quickly as he's leaned in, he pulls back, snaps his fingers like he's just come up with something of great importance. He feels a connection to Tom already, though, a way of knowing each other in intangible ways, and sometimes it's easier not to think on things like that too long, lest he risk sharing things about himself he's willing to admit to. "Fish! Food, you need — something to eat. Fish or food — fish is food, or in some cases, very dear friends. I have some! Not friends, these ones, of course. Dried and smoked, hang on." He's warm enough at least, or seems to be, he needs sustenance. And probably a bit of proper rest, if his mind could relax enough for it.
cw casual drug use mention
He's quiet for a few moments, content to watch and happy to learn before he finally speaks up. He pulls the blanket a little closer as he does so, getting far more comfortable.
"They've made a mistake, I think. Trapping you here." Tom sounds very pleased by this, and then cants his head to the side a fraction of an inch as a thought occurs to him.
"We should collaborate."
no subject
As he comes back with a small handful of what amounts to fish jerky, he hands it over to Tom with a smile. "Of course we should!" He says this with all the confidence of someone who's mid-sentence on a thought that wasn't even originally his own.
"Now, I'll warn you, I'm booked solid for the next six months, but there's always a chance someone will cancel and then you're my first call, Tom Zane." There's a warmth that sits close to the playfulness in his eyes, and he gives him a little nod before he turns his attention to the fire, tending it, adding more kindling. "You can stay and rest here as long as you need."
no subject
He puts a bit in his mouth. Fishy. Smokey. Good--childhood memories, even. He flashes another small, grateful smile to the Doctor, the same one he's given him for the umpteenth time. He's warm now. That's also good. And now he's very, very, very tired.
"I would like to nap. And then, Doctor, we talk shop."