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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
Peace and prosperity!
[She says this emphatically as she reaches him, and that is protocol, both a greeting and a formal offer of peaceable contract. That nobody on this planet knows anything of Tradeline customs is an unfortunate fact that she's still mercifully unaware of. In lieu of the usual handshake she gives him a neat bow.]
My name is Tayrey. Lieutenant Arilanna Tayrey, of the interstellar Tradelines.
[She exhales, her breath condensing, and stamps her feet to keep them warm, boots compacting the snow.]
I did... wake here. [What an odd way to put it - but true enough.] I don't know what happened. I was shipside, and then I woke here.
[Shipside, in L-space, which should rule out even the most fantastical explanations including kidnapping and planetary transport. Yet here she is. It's possible she was drugged, isn't it? Lost time - and then there's the way she woke, in her everyday uniform, with a coat that she didn't remember wearing left some distance away, as if she'd discarded it in some hypothermic delirium.
Had she? No, she tells herself, she'd be in a much worse state now if she had. Clearly she hadn't been lying in the snow long before she woke.]
I don't remember what happened. [She corrects herself.] I need to send a message upsystem, to my people, can you direct me? I don't have any way to signal from here.
no subject
But never mind that, the stranger just introduced herself as a lieutenant of something interstellar, and that snatches all of his attention. It wouldn't be the first time he bumped into someone here who came from a time or place capable of space travel far beyond his own. But it's always impacting the way nothing else is — some dose of familiarity, even if it's immediately clear that this woman's experience is probably quite different from his own. ]
It's good to meet you, lieutenant, although I wish it were under less baffling circumstances.
[ He would usually offer a hand of his own, but it's clear the cold has her withdrawing, and her attire certainly isn't suitable for this kind of environment. Best to get her back to the Community Center as quickly as possible. He gives a quick, polite nod of his head as he introduces himself in return, though the title feels a little strange coming from his own mouth now. ...When did it start feeling strange? ]
Commander Konstantin Veshnyakov of the Soviet space program — though I haven't been referred to as any of that in a very long time here.
[ That's why it feels strange, he realises, offering a soft laugh at his own words. Titles mean little to the people here; he hasn't been addressed as commander in probably months. But— the matter at hand. The confusion as to how she'd gone from there to here, the immediate need to contact her people. Konstantin remembers experiencing the exact same, asking anyone he could to direct him to a telephone.
He allows himself to pull in a heavy sigh, ignoring the discomfort it brings, and finally frowns a little. Better to tell her this part straight away. ]
Unfortunately, we don't have any communication with the outside world here. This place is... [ How in the world does he explain it? ] ...There's much to tell you about where you've been brought. But we should get you inside somewhere warmer — will you come with me? There's civilisation not too far, people, food, safety. We can talk on the way, and I'll tell you everything I know.
no subject
Her next thought is that he knows how to prioritise. Information won't be of much use to her if she gets too cold to think clearly. Tayrey nods, and begins to walk beside him, as briskly as she can. On the surface, it might look blindly trusting, but in truth, she has already weighed up the probabilities. She's armed, and even if he's lying, that doesn't change the fact that staying put would be a disastrous idea.]
Thank you, Commander.
[Let's hope he doesn't mind the title, because she plans to keep using it. Even if she isn't entirely sure what he means by it.]
You're a spacer, yes? With command of - is the ship you fly called the Soviet?
[It's her best guess, given his words. Not a captain, or he'd have said as much. Not his ship, then. She mentally files him somewhere in the region of what her people would call lieutenant-in-command. Of course, it's the prerogative of independent ships to be as idiosyncratic as they please with their ranking systems. Veshnyakov. It sounds almost familiar to her ears, like something out of Varashka. She'll ask him later. For now, survival has to take priority.]
How far to the settlement? And when you say you don't have outside communications, is it a matter of cost? If you let me patch into a Sibril line, bounce it off the nearest relay station, then my captain will cover the expense, word by contract. You know a Tradeliner's word stands.
[Were she in fact stranded on some remote world not too far from where she ought to be, all of these assumptions would have been sensible. Unfortunately, the young lieutenant is far further from home than she imagines.]
no subject
It's his first time hearing someone question what "Soviet" means, however. Being referred to as "a spacer" is also a bit new. ]
Ah— I don't exactly have a ship. [ He remembers what Kirk had talked about, living and traveling aboard a ship way up there in space, a concept that's still very unreachable in Konstantin's own time. Then of course there's The Doctor and everything he's spoken of, having such a capacity for space travel. It's a remarkable thought and Konstantin's already feeling a million questions bubbling within him for her, but he tries to stick to what's necessary, for now. ]
Where I come from — it's known as the Soviet Union — we don't have the ability to fly longterm spacecraft like that, ships. We mostly stick to shuttles. I just pilot whichever one is needed for a mission. [ He smiles with his usual surface-level easiness, ignoring the unpleasant spike that nudges up under his sternum, like the sudden remembrance of loss. There's flames and blood and and his co-pilot's body is somehow still alive, but Averchenko will never move or speak again, reduced to a fate worse than death now. The crash back to Earth during their last mission is Konstantin's last memory of space. And of course, all of it happened because of the thing that got into the shuttle and then into him, and it's here now— ]
Fifteen minutes or so I think, not too far. [ Though it is a long walk in this weather, and as he casts a glance around the expanse of empty snowy white, Konstantin realises how foolish it really is that he'd come out all this way on his own. If he'd started having an episode... But in the end, he'd encountered a young Interloper all on her own out here, and what might have happened to her if he hadn't? There are things in this world that aren't natural, things that can't be stopped, hungry things. He's glad he found her. ]
Unfortunately, cost isn't the issue. It's more.... there's something in place blocking it entirely. [ He recognises less than half of the specific words she uses, and realises he'll have to be the bearer of even worse news. ] Technology doesn't work here. Only on specific nights — but the majority of the time, we don't even have electricity.
[ He looks back to her, curious. ] Tradelines... That's who you work for? What is it like?
no subject
It sounds like an atmospheric problem, with the electricity. I could have tested for it, if I had my kit with me. [She's empty-handed, though, so that knowledge doesn't help. Instead, she turns to answering his question.]
I love being a Tradeliner. My ship's the Prosperity, we run the Keturah line out to the frontier and back. Takes about a standard year; a lot of time out in the black. I'm second astrogator. [She says this with considerable pride.] Passed my examinations about a half-year back. I guess if you don't do anything but in-system travel you won't have spacer culture the same way, but - I feel at home shipside. I trust my comrades. Our work is valuable, protecting the colonies and keeping the lines of trade safe.
[There are downsides, but she's determined to represent her people as best she can - and nothing she's saying is untrue. Tayrey is more animated when she's talking about her ship, eager to tell him about it.]
I hate to admit to it, as an astrogator, but I don't know the Soviet Union. Does your homeworld have a different name? Do you know the closest trading line? I know you must be isolationist, if your people only fly locally, but maybe you know...
[She hopes he knows, and looks at him expectantly.]
no subject
One thing stands out. 'I feel at home shipside.' And he knows what that's like, in his own way. He's never felt more at home than when he's up there. Even now, even knowing what he does, even paying the price for it. He'd go back in a heartbeat. He misses it every day.
Konstantin shelves his barrage of questions for now, dipping his head low for a moment as he pushes through a gust of sharp winter wind that swirls through the air, hands shoved deep in his pockets and shoulders hitched up. There's a rough exhale when he looks up again, breathing through the white puff of fog that leaves his lips. She doesn't know the Soviet Union... it's telling. She might come from a world or time in which such a thing doesn't even exist, or maybe it's so far back in time for her... ]
Do you know Russia? That's the name of my country. [ Pause, as she asks about the closest trading line. Nothing like what she's asking about, and explaining... isn't easy. Especially because it involves revealing to the poor girl that she's even further away from her home than she probably grasps, just yet. Because of course she wouldn't — he hadn't understood, or been able to accept it, for a very long time. It makes no logical, scientific sense. ]
...I believe I'm likely from a time long before yours. Where and when I'm from... we're in the beginning of space travel. It's only been twenty years since humans were able to leave Earth at all.
[ He studies her face for any sign of recognition of that word itself — Earth — before continuing. ] We're in the first stages of exploration. It's dangerous work. Much goes wrong. ...But it's exciting. We're discovering many things.
[ And he can't help a certain pride, a certain brightness, from shining in his own eyes for a moment, almost boyish as he reciprocates the enthusiasm she displays when speaking of her own ship; Konstantin always blossoms when thinking of his role, of discovery, research, pushing towards advancement. It does make him feel young again, like the teenage boy he was back when Gagarin made history, when Konstantin knew exactly what he wanted to do someday, too.
But he returns to something more grounded again soon enough, frowning slightly as he looks over at her, at the likely unpleasant truths he's revealing that affect her perception of this situation. ]
We don't have tradelines in space. And... neither does this place. It's not connected to space at all.