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singillppl2025-02-05 07:03 pm
singmod) wrote in singillppl2025-02-05 07:03 pm
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February 2025 Test Drive Meme
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
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. 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.
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!
no subject
Her brows pinch together, wincing when he pierces her flesh. She's felt worse for sure, but it still hurts. At least pain reminds her she's still alive. She can hook onto that, breathing through the rhythm of Max stitching her back together.
She rolls her head to the side, swallowing. Her nostrils flare with a deep breath. She wants to stay awake. She wants to be awake for this to learn about the different lives Max has lived. ]
Hard to imagine you as a kid.
no subject
He manages a little half snort of a laugh as he cuts off another closed suture with his knife. ]
Mm. [ That's the first answer as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. ] Thought I just came out like this, did you?
[ Childhood might as well have been ten lifetimes ago. He hardly recognizes the person in his memories, almost like they're borrowed from someone else.
Maybe they were. He can't be too sure anymore. ]
no subject
[ Not like she'd had much time to imagine anything about Max. She could still count the time they've known each other in hours rather than years, but the trust they already have stretches out long beyond that.
It's just survival, she thinks. Someone who knows how to live out here in the harshest environments. A convenient alliance. ]
You, uhm— [ She pauses, waiting out the press and pull of the needle. He should almost be done right? A wave of nausea covers her again, face turning ashen. She forces her eyes open, blinking fast, but it doesn't abate the dark tunnels creeping in on her vision. ] Can you give me a top up?
[ That's the right word for it. She is a tool, as much as her rig is. A weapon that gets jobs done. Mend up her scratches, clear out her hose, and refill her tank. She'll be good to go. Good to let him go. ]
no subject
Nearly there, [ he murmurs, pulling the string taut. He makes a knot and lops off the rest with the knife quickly. No time to really admire his handiwork - he ties several of the pieces of cloth together to form a long bandage, hands slowing with her question.
Just a second to process it, but Max already knows what she means.
She's been bleeding since he saw her last. Since he turned his back on the Citadel and walked away, since he left everyone behind. Swallowing, he nods. But first, something more pressing to tend to, fabric bandage in hand. ]
Can you sit up?
the matching icons uwu
[ She grunts, pushing herself up. She stutters partway up. Rather than let herself fall, she hooks her arm around Max's shoulder to heft herself up the rest of the way. It was still mere hours ago that he held her up like this. Everything was a blur. Was his face this close to her then too? She feels like she could bump her forehead against his.
Steady. Breathe. She turns her face away from his, waiting here. ]
Close enough.
had to do it uwu owo
Once on her feet, Max covers the newly-stitched wound with the bandage, using both arms to wrap around her midsection and back around. His face dips close against her shoulder, and he murmurs a noise that's an approximation of sorry before tying it at her back.
It takes effort to avoid touching her more than necessary, jaw clenching. ]
We'll have to check it, [ he waves a hand, weirdly. ] Make sure it's.
[ He doesn't finish that thought, hands already grasping the IV. Takes a second to grab the end of the cannula, tube between his teeth as he takes Furiosa's arm, pulling her elbow closer. His brows lift, the silent you ready? that he can muster. ]
no subject
Does he intend to stay?
She'll tell him she's fine once she's got some more blood in her veins. More of his blood. That's it, that's all she needs. ]
On with it.
cw: blood, medical procedure
Just like before.
And just like before, the blood travels quickly, up the tube where it's draped over the back of the chair, and down toward the receiving side. Max barely beats the flow of blood as he inserts the other end into the ditch of Furiosa's arm. A crimson rivulet of overflow makes its way down her arm, stark against pale skin. At least circumstances appear to be less dire since they were here last.
Squeezing his fist, Max wills his blood to leave him swiftly. It's a moment before he can pull words from his dry mouth. ]
Just got here. Didn't you?
no subject
What an odd feeling it is, to be lured back to consciousness by the steady hands of another person instead of having to fight for it, teeth gnashing and nails scrabbling. Fighting for survival fueled by spite.
Alertness and exhaustion still war in her body, the hormonal chemical mix of a body that needs rest being pumped with the latent adrenaline of a wastelander. She has enough sense to know that at some point he covered her, and, somehow, she feels laid more bare in front of him with his jacket than she did. ]
Yeah. [ She says finally, after a long pause. Her voice is less raspy as her face seems to pink again with extra blood. ] Guess I got lucky seeing you again.
no subject
Furniture. Been awhile since Max has seen more than just scrapped parts. He'd almost forgotten what a chair was originally for. It has multiple off brand uses now. ]
Mm, [ he answers, nodding. She couldn't have made it too far since he saw her last, not in this condition. He chances a look over, forcing himself not to avert his gaze if their eyes meet. ] Luck.
[ It's not dismissiveness. Max's brows pinch, considering the implications of their second chance meeting. Why the two of them? Why here? Max tries not to focus on the how. He tries to soften his tone. ]
Lucky you found your bloodbag. Less lucky that you found him here. [ He looks up, indicating the general here of this unfamiliar location. ] Seen anyone else yet? [ Anyone we know? ]
no subject
Just a little further amendment upon further reflection. Should she apologize for trying to kill him? Possibly, but she also gets the feeling that he doesn't hold it against her. They're not quite square. Furiosa owes him too much to ever really be square.
But, he also walked away before she had the chance to really pay him back. Pretty selfless for a guy who once tried to steal her rig. ]
No one else. People. [ She adds, but she knows that's not quite what he's asking. ] Some that live here, but not any of the girls.
no subject
If he doesn't stay, will she? Does she come with him? Could she? Max chances a look down, at the blood as it rushes through the tube and into her waiting body and the pink that's slowly finding its way back into her face. A relief to see, but something in Max grows icy with darker notions. (What if? What if—)
Shaking his head to clear the thoughts out, he hums, like he's been thinking normally all along. ]
Maybe it's better they're not here. [ So they don't have to adjust to another kind of survival, one even Max isn't sure he's prepared for. ] Who lives here? You seen them?
the way i deadass put dialogue into the brackets, but u know what i'm leaving it
But the girls are brave, having proved themselves on the Fury Road. They have each other. ]
Looked abandoned. Only footprints in the dust are ours. Checked the bedrooms. No bodies.
ykw. it works either way tbh
No. Just a second to indulge in the question; no time or reason to think about it more. ]
Mn, [ he returns, eyes flicking over the room, and then out the snow-crusted window. ] Not just here. A lot of this place looks abandoned. Other houses. No paths in the snow.
[ Max tightens his fist. Considers the 'luck' that followed them here. ]
Least there's water. Trees. Wild game. Can't be so bad. Right? [ ...right? ]
no subject
Yeah. Could scout— he[ r words are interrupted by a yawn. It's late and terribly dark. They don't know the lay of the land. They aren't dressed for this weather. ] Should wait until the sun comes out though.
[ More mumbled, her body moving swiftly closer and closer to sleep as she pillows her arm beneath her head. This is far from the most uncomfortable place she's slept. She's waited a lot in her life. One more night with the right company doesn't seem so terrible. ]
no subject
But maybe it's the blood loss, too. The brain lulling itself into a unconsciousness to begin to repair itself.
The both of them need a lot of repairing. ]
We'll scout. Saw a lot more places to look.
[ Looking down, he catches telltale signs of one bodily need catching up to a host that's always fighting. Her mouth barely moving, body relaxing, eyes sliding shut or fluttering open in protest. Max quiets, lets the silence of the snowy woods surround them and sleep swallow her down. It's what she needs, he knows. After a few minutes, he reaches out, laying his uninjured hand gently across Furiosa's brow. She's warm. But she'll be okay.
Maybe they'll both be okay. ]