February 2025 Test Drive Meme

[singmod]

FEBRUARY 2025 TDM

PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: A 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 — and the current inhabitants, their fellow survivors.

PROMPT TWO — WINTER'S BITE: Tales of superstition from the Northern Territories appear to come to light in the form of fearsome creatures made of ice and bone.

PROMPT THREE — FROZEN HEARTS: A strange, new affliction causes Interlopers to find themselves figuratively and literally turning to ice, and there's only one way of saving them.

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

WHEN: Start of the 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.

These are the words of the Darkwalker, you’ll soon come to find.

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. This place has been ransacked, abandoned long ago. 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.

The daylight is thin. Hours are few. It will get dark soon.

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. You’ll find one soon enough. It’s here you may find someone else in the same boat as yourself, equally freezing and confused. 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 see it: the lazy trail of smoke rising in the air. Fire. Not just one, but several. Civilization...?

Follow it, and soon enough the way you’ve taken will certainly become a path or road. Unfolding before you in the mountainous forests, you’ll see the most welcome of sights: 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.

Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building from which the biggest of the smoke trail rises: a school-house of sorts, or some kind of community hall. Perhaps both. 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. Others may look as if they could faint from the cold at any second.

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. He smiles warmly, and with pity, ushering you in with haste.

“They come again. I had thought we may not see more of you.” 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. You are not the only one, the lights are changing things. Come. Mother Nature has not been kind to you, but there are plenty here to help.”

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 laden with food, drinks and bottled water similar to one might find at a soup kitchen. Once again, Methuselah offers a feast, aided by some of the other Interlopers.

There are canisters with hot herbal teas, mostly. But some coffee can be found. There’s also soup and stew and trays of charred deer and rabbit meats, plus some grilled fish. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast for those who have battled the cold to come here.

Methuselah will continue to busy himself, still; there is plenty to do. He will fetch blankets, tend to wounds, serve food and drinks — aided by a handful of others in the Hall. Your fellow survivors, but those who have been here for some time now. 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 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, but gesture to your fellow survivors. They will have better answers than him.

WINTER'S BITE

WHEN: The Month of February.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural beings; magical beings; potential cold injuries; potential cuts/bleeding

Amongst the original inhabitants to the Northern Territories, superstition and folk tales were much more prominent — stemming from a mix of superstitions that settlers brought with them to the area and those beliefs of people native to Northern Territories. Some are familiar to Interlopers, others may be less so.

Much of this is now lost, with the population of Milton dead or gone, but some writings can be found in the town. Some wrote of their superstitions in regards to the changing weather and wildlife in personal journals in the lead up to what is known as The Flare, which may still be found in the empty homes uninhabited by Interlopers. Some note feeling as if 'the souls of the animals are angered somehow' or that the changes to the Aurora may be as if 'the afterlife comes too close to the world'.

Maybe they had a point, maybe they were on to something. It’s hard to really say for sure.

Whether it’s magic, some supernatural cause, or something caused by the Aurora, there’s a strange shifting in snow that blankets the Northern Territories. Throughout the month, angry chittering and clacking — like glass or bones — can be heard out in the wilds. Out of the corner of one’s eye, they may see the snow move of its own accord — with confronting it leading to nothing, and stillness.

For a time.

Until whatever it is finally strikes.

Out from the snow, spectral creatures comprised of ice and animal bone spring forwards — jittering and clunky in their movements. Long bodies that twist and dance in the air, all sharp teeth and even sharper ice. Is it a kind of animal? Or spirit? Some mix of both? An angered spirit of nature or some long dead animal? It’s hard to tell for sure.

Despite their clunky movements, their bodies rolling and jaws chattering, these strange spectral creatures are fast and they’ll strike hard — looking to take a chunk out of the unsuspecting and unprepared Interlopers. Even just brushing against one of these strange creatures can lead to some nasty lacerations if they knock themselves hard enough against you. What’s maybe worse than the lacerations themselves is the wounds will burn with their chill, colder than anything you’ve ever felt.

But being made out of bone and ice means they are also just that. Blunt force may just be enough to end up shattering the bodies of these creatures, sending their remains flying. Be careful, though. Those shards are still just as sharp and will become flying projectiles which could cause further injury to Interlopers.

Alternatively, a way to battle back these ice creatures would be through the use of flame. Fire, torches, Interlopers with the Lightbringer Feat would prove vital in getting rid of these creatures long enough to get to safety.

Fleeing is also an option. The creatures will attempt to chase for a time, but will soon give up and end up returning to the snow once more.

FROZEN HEARTS

WHEN: The Month of February, into March.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural ailments; body horror; characters turning to ice; potential character death.

The cold is a persistent thing in the Northern Territories. Even during the summer months, it doesn’t seem to get warm all that much. But the winter is a different kind of beast, and the cold seems to sink into your very bones.

It starts with a kind of cold that you find it hard to get warm, no matter how long you spend by the fire. In time, it feels like that cold has started freezing your body up: your joints feel stiff and sore. Moving around is a chore, even for the simplest of tasks like walking or sitting down. In time, it gets into the smaller joints: fine motor skills become tricky. You drop things, fail to grip on to items, struggle to close your hands into fists. Even talking can be a bit of a struggle, like you’re slowly getting lockjaw.

With that, it’s not surprising that your mood will dip. Sour moods, and even icy manners aren't out of the ordinary. It’s easy to be miserable when you’re so damn cold and you’re struggling to move and speak. It is so easy to find yourself with lowered spirits, to be irritable and closed off from your fellow Interlopers.

It feels as if nothing might warm you, physically or emotionally.

You find yourself being cold towards others, even those you care about most, your closest companions in this world. You may snap at them, or continually brush them off. You find yourself with little patience for them, and are often unmoved by their attempts to bring you some good cheer.

And certainly, what isn’t out of the ordinary is the strange affliction that plagues your skin. It isn’t frostbite, that you know of. Your skin doesn’t turn red, then white then black. No, it turns blue, frosted with white. Your skin looks less like skin and more like stone….. Or, rather, ice.

It starts in the fingers and toes, and will slowly work its way up your limbs, working its way towards your center. Even your hair may start to freeze. As it progresses, you find it harder to move. In enough time, you may find yourself completely frozen on the spot, and in time, unable to even speak as the ice slowly encloses around you.

If something isn’t done quickly enough, you may find yourself completely turning to ice and being trapped as nothing more than a statue.

Hope isn’t lost, though. They say in stories there’s such things that might save some terrible affliction such as this: An act of true love.

This cold isn’t beaten back by flames, but a different kind of warmth.

But what is true love?

It might just be enough to reverse the effects and undo this terrible affliction before it’s too late, to let the ice slowly melt back again and restore you to what you once were.

FAQs

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

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.

WINTER'S BITE

1. Digging in the snow where the creatures have returned will prove fruitless, Interlopers will not even find bones.

2. The creatures can spring on Interlopers in groups of up to three.

FROZEN HEARTS

1. The notion of true love is open to interpretation. Platonic love, familial love, romantic love could be deemed as acts of true love. Perhaps even the genuine compassion of a fellow Interloper could be seen as true love.

2. An act of showing true love is very flexible! It could be a kiss, a hug, shedding tears for the afflicted, some desperate attempt of helping the afflicted from freezing. Players are encouraged to play around with what this might entail!

TALES FROM THE NORTHERN TERRITORIES NEWSLETTER

Comments

Winter's Bite

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju’s been tracking that chittering noise. He shouldn’t be — if he did anything but avoid this newest bizarre thing, even not knowing yet what the noise is coming from or whether it’s dangerous, Francis would worry — but Raju needs to know where it is if he’s going to avoid it, doesn’t he? And if the odd noise and oddly moving snow does happen to be something dangerous, maybe it won’t be such a bad thing to do something properly exciting, for a change. And Francis doesn’t have to know Raju was tracking it on purpose.

The sound of footsteps hurrying over snow and the startled noise is no scream, but along with the more unnatural sounds that preceded it it’s easy to forget what he’d been thinking before and run into the little clearing. And see—

The moving snow is something made of a hundred little pieces jittering in the air, hung loosely together in the shape of something long and living, with a stranger’s cloak caught in floating shards of teeth. Raju skids to a stop, eyes widening. The only skin he’s left exposed to the cold is the tips of the fingers holding his knife the slivers the scarf can’t cover around his eyes, but that’s enough to tell him — if he needed it — that the wind’s moving in the wrong direction to make the snow move that way. There’s not a hint of anything explicable or natural here. He’d thought he was past expecting there to be.

No time to think about it. Raju darts forward, the blade of the knife catching fire as he slashes it down toward where the creature’s snout should be. At times like this, Raju’s control over the ‘gift’ — the feat — of the fire is better than it ever is when he’s at rest, but the fire on the blade may still be large enough or hot enough to burn the man’s cloak, too. Raju’s more focused on driving the creature away from him than keeping his things neat.

[nicehobbit]

[ OOC: Sike I'll match your prose instead, now what. ]

The fact that the thing has his cloak in its jaws is frightening enough by itself. Frodo turns enough to grasp his cloak with both hands and try to pull it free, but he doesn't get very far. Suddenly, he's not alone. He doesn't know where this man came from, and he doesn't like that he doesn't know. His heart leaps into his throat and for a moment he freezes with uncertainty about what to do. He knows he wants to get away from both of them, but he's not sure how he'll accomplish that.

The next moment, he's freed. The flame melts the creature instantly - at least enough of it that whatever is left falls apart - and he immediately stumbles back with a couple of panicked gasps of breath. He's so focused on Raju that he doesn't realise the fire very much did spread to his cloak.

[load_aim_shoot]

The jittering, unnatural construction of parts falls apart just like that and Raju frowns, watching the spot in the snow it fell into. He’s aware now of his quick heartbeat as he hears it in his ears, hearing the faint crackling of the fire over the blade of his knife, waiting for something to come back and attack him. Maybe it’s only coming from somewhere else—

As Raju looks around for anything else coming his gaze starts to slip past the figure it’d been attacking and then snaps back onto him, finally noticing the fire eating at that cloak. If he had the control that others do he could wish that flame away with a thought but he’s still expecting a fight and more inclined to act than waste time so he lunges toward the stranger, knife held a little behind him but still in hand, thinking only about smothering the fire. It hasn’t ever spread quite in the way a natural fire would but it’s just as hot, and Raju didn’t try to drive the thing off just to hurt whoever this is himself.

[nicehobbit]

The way Raju lunges only serves to make him seem more dangerous to Frodo, who takes another few steps back and reaches for Sting. Only then, when his hand gets closer to the spreading flames and he gets burned, does he realise what's happening.

Rather, he gets burned and pulls his hand back in front of himself with a hiss of pain, freezes in confusion for a second, finally looks down--

It takes another second for his brain to fully catch up, but when it does, his reaction is instantaneous. He throws himself back into the snow, rolls around a full 360 degrees and hopes that is enough. Surely, it should be enough. And, finally, he pulls out his dagger as he sits up, watching Raju intently.

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju’s still frowning as the stranger finishes rolling and pulls a weapon out, but after a moment of directing his confused frown at that dagger, Raju heaves a sigh. The skin around his eyes tightens and his head rolls exasperatedly toward a shoulder, the tense line of his shoulders falling. He looks at his knife— still on fire, probably all the more dangerous looking for it. His eyes narrow at it as he tries to will the damned stuff away but of course being annoyed doesn’t help calm him at all, and calm is all that will make what he’s already lit fade out. He gives the knife an irritated little shake. The flames barely flicker with the movement.

With a huff Raju gives up and tosses his knife away, where it sinks into the snow with a loud, long hiss and a little cloud of stream. He’ll pick it back up later. “You think I saved you from that thing only to, what?” he demands as he pulls the scarf down off the bottom half of his face. The sudden cold air makes him grimace a little, and the need to fight the creature that’s already melted and the unexpected suspicion afterward puts exasperation into his voice. “Eat you? I could have waited for it to finish killing you first.”

[nicehobbit]

The expressions that flicker across Raju's face, followed by the way he shakes the dagger and then tosses it aside, is already enough for Frodo to decide he's probably no threat. Before he puts Sting away, though, he stands back up, and gives the knife a curious look. Then he sheathes the blade and finally responds to Raju's irritated look with one of his own.

"I do not know you," he says by way of explanation, and he will not elaborate beyond that. Instead, he takes a breath, looks mournfully down at his partly burned cloak, and looks back up with a softer expression. "Thank you. I suspect my blade would not have done much against whatever that was."

[load_aim_shoot]

The thanks blunts the edge of that half-thwarted need to kill something, and the irritation in Raju’s face softens into a more general, undirected frustration. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen one of those before, only heard them. The fire certainly seemed to help.”

He’s taking another look around as he’s saying it, but it seems they’re safe for now. He focuses on the stranger again; fire isn’t a weapon just anyone would have, unless they keep a torch lit and fed wherever they go. If they’re lucky it’s not the only way to fight the things. He’ll have to try something else the next time that he sees one, just to find out. “We’re far enough from any cabins; you might meet another one going back. I could walk with you, wherever you’re going.”

[nicehobbit]

An unpleasant yet familiar sensation creeps beneath his skin, one that has both correctly and incorrectly warned him of danger in the past. He wishes it would be more accurate, but all it really tells him is that he's far too used to looking over his shoulder now. If only Sam were here.

He makes an attempt at shrugging the tension out of his shoulders, which is only slightly successful, and he stays silent for a moment or two as he tries to consider his options. The thought of turning back to the cabins already leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but the one idea he had is clearly a dead end and he's going to need more time to decide where next. Time, and information. And allies.

"Back to Milton," he says and turns back around to start wading through the snow. "I'm Frodo."

[load_aim_shoot]

“Raju,” he offers in return, bending to dig for his knife as he passes the hole melted into the snow. He puts his mitten on before he does it, grimacing at the water all over the thing. Is it cold enough still that getting any of his clothes wet putting it back is going to be dangerous? He can’t tell. Past a certain point all temperature here only feels too cold to him and it’s hard to guess specifics.

“I haven’t seen you out here before.” While he tries to decide what to do with the wet knife Raju turns his attention to Frodo, watching him wading through the snow and walking a couple feet away from him, trying to match his pace. “What brings you this far out from town?”

[nicehobbit]

They'd get snow in the Shire. When they did, clearing all paths were the first priority, because too much snow can quickly become a big problem with their height. The effort it takes to great through the snow here helps keep him warm, but the danger is that he may get too warm. That's no good either, he's learned quickly. Even the thinnest layer of sweat is like ice with the slightest breeze of air that slips through his clothes.

"This is where I arrived." He's already noticeably short of breath. "I was hoping to find something. Anything. But I did not."

[load_aim_shoot]

“That’s what I tried too, when I’d just arrived.” The need to act, to fight, finally, has eased enough that Raju smiles a little, wryly amused at himself. “I was so sure I’d been taken across the sea somehow, on some boat, and drugged so I didn’t remember it. I was certain there was some clue from whoever did it that I was just missing. I didn’t find a thing when I looked, of course.”

But, because he can’t not notice how out of breath Frodo is already and he’d have to know Frodo a lot better to introduce the idea of carrying him, Raju can’t quite help but add: “If you went that other way, where the trees are closer together, the snow wouldn’t be so thick. It might make walking easier.”

[nicehobbit]

If that's the way it happened, it wouldn't have explained the state Frodo arrived in. Unless whoever did it also knew that they'd have to pour a bucket of water over him before dropping him into the snow.

No, as impossible as it sounds, it must have been instantenous.

As soon as Raju suggests a potentially easier path, he stops to look around and find the trees he's talking about. And then he starts walking in that direction.

"How long have you been here?"

[load_aim_shoot]

“Over a year now.” He glances over at Frodo as they near the trees and the snow starts thinning just enough to show the man’s bare feet. Raju frowns again, biting at the inside of his lip. Maybe Frodo is as unused to real cold as Raju used to be. He should say something. “Just over. I got here just before winter. Your, ah— your feet. Can you feel them? They haven’t gone numb yet, have they?”

[nicehobbit]

Everything stops. For a moment, it feels to Frodo like his heart stops, too, and he freezes in place to stare into the middle distance as he tries to let the words sink in. Over a year.

Over a year?

This can't be happening. It's been no more than a day and that's already too long, if you ask him. He cannot be stuck here for a year. There's no time for that. So long as he has the ring, it may not be possible for Sauron to regain his full strength, but that doesn't guarantee that the world - the people in it - will survive that long. There are still the orcs, there is still Saruman, and he hasn't a single idea of how the rest of the fellowship is doing.

If any of them are still alive.

"I have to get back," he says, looking at Raju with something wild in his eyes.

[load_aim_shoot]

It takes Raju a step or two to realise Frodo’s stopped and stop walking himself, and turn to look at him. His grimace is half simple distaste — only a few months ago it would have been easier to agree, to say me too without too much thought on what exactly he was going back to, and it’s better if he doesn’t put any of that thought in now — and half sympathy. “There are men here from some eighty years before me. One woman who might be… I don’t know, some thousand past. But even those who’ve been here the longest haven’t been longer than me by more than a few months. If any of us are going to get back at all it stands to reason we’ll end up whenever we’re placed, no matter when we came.”

Raju sighs, trying to tell if that soothed that wild look in Frodo’s eyes at all. If it did, Raju will start walking again; no shoes out here may not seem as important as whether they’re going home but that doesn’t mean it isn’t, and it’ll be better if Frodo doesn’t wait too long to go back inside. “I’m sorry I can’t give you something better. It’s hard to be sure of anything here.”

[nicehobbit]

Soothe may not be the right term, but it's momentarily replaced by confusion as he tries to make sense of the words. Men from some eighty years before, and a woman from a thousand years past? At first, he thinks that's utterly nonsensical. Then he thinks about the roads and the structures he's seen, and everything around here that is completely alien and unfamiliar.

For the n-th time, he wishes Gandalf were here. He wishes he wasn't alone.

Nothing to do about it now. If people found themselves here as suddenly as he did and have been here for a year without finding a way out, he won't do so any time soon. And he can't give in to despair. The fact that the ring is so much lighter here is a good sign that he's further away from Sauron than before, so this isn't the worst scenario he could think of.

One thing at a time. Right now, it's clear the snow is dangerous, and so getting out of it must be first priority. Then, he needs more information.

He reaches up to his neck to feel for the chain, takes a deep breath as he holds his fingers there for a moment, then he keeps walking.