singillppl | October 2023 Test Drive Meme

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October 2023 Test Drive Meme

OCTOBER 2023 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 — not to mention the fact they are not the first to come here.

PROMPT TWO — GUILTY PARTY: Interlopers are kidnapped and held captive by a being and forced to confess their wrong doings, or face fatal consequences.

PROMPT THREE — OFF THE BEATEN TRACK: Interlopers get more than they bargained for when a mysterious albeit friendly dog comes across them and persuades them to follow them into the wilds.

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

WHEN: Mid-October.
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 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. 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.

“Ah, more of you have come.” he nods, just as he suspected you might. “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 and coffee, along with soup and stew and trays of charred deer and rabbit meats, plus some grilled fish, instant mashed potatoes, and tinned vegetables. 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 troubled, thoughtful. The arrival of so many is not something that sits well with him. The others from town will eventually trail in too, to eat and warm themselves, and search amongst 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, but perhaps you might be able to get some answers from those fellow arrivals who’ve been in this place for some time now.

GUILTY PARTY

WHEN: Over the next month.
WHERE: Paradise Farm Outbuildings.
CONTENT WARNINGS: forced imprisonment; forced honesty; supernatural beings; confessional themes; threat of death; possible character death; possible death by throat injury.

You don’t remember how you came to be here. The air is cold and damp, the rot of wood is strong, and… blood. Why does it smell of so much blood? You can’t seem to see all that much in the gloom, but you think you’re in some kind of outbuilding of sorts. You find yourself chained to a chair, the metal is heavy and cold against you and no matter whatever you seem to do, you can’t seem to free yourself from them. No struggling can ease their hold, and there’s no lock to unpick or break. They weigh you down in your seat, you can't even seem to tip yourself over.

But you’re not the only one here. Across from you in the dark is someone else. One of your fellow Interlopers is trapped here with you, too. They too don’t remember anything either, they’re equally as confused and uncertain as you. Perhaps frightened. Not only this, they’re also sat chained up just as tightly. You have a little time to talk before you realise the two of you aren’t alone.

There's a glooming green light, the feeling of a presence. A huge figure steps into view, cloaked in black. It’s hard to tell whether it’s a man or a woman, and it’s difficult to make out much detail of them. Their face is obscured by a stone mask in the shape of a monstrous, horned and fanged Jackal. Green light glows from behind it, foreboding in the dark. It will not answer you if you try to speak with it.

“WICKEDNESS LIES WITHIN YOU.” The voice is a fierce chorus of whispers, but yet so loud. It sends a shiver down your spine. “I HAVE SEEN IT.”

... You can’t help but know it to be true. Something inside you knows what they speak of is true. Any misdeed or wrongdoing done by your hand, any cruel word you spoke, any life you took or heart you broke. You feel exposed, seen. The figure knows what you have done.

“CONFESS.” the figure demands. “UNBURDEN YOUR HEART AND BE FREE. BE SILENT AND CARRY IT TO THE GRAVE.”

The figure holds an item in its hand, something that glints in the light that glows from its mask. Now you realise why there’s so much blood in the air: it’s a sickle, dripping with blood. You are not the first to be brought here. You will not be the last.

Speak, unburden yourself, and if the figure is satisfied — you will, in fact, go free. Refuse, or not take the demand seriously, and the figure will deem you unworthy. They will move within the blink of an eye, striking you with the sickle in the neck — let it be a mercy that they kill you quickly.

OFF THE BEATEN TRACK

WHEN: Over the next month.
WHERE: Milton / Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural creature; trickster creature; themes of peril; possible character injury; possible dead body discoveries; potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk; possible character death.

The weather will continue to prove difficult for all who try to navigate this world, but with the current footfall in and around Milton, it’s at least helped to keep paths and roads somewhat clear despite the snow’s best efforts to cover up these walkways. Still, it’s a pain to get around, especially on particularly snowy days. Unfortunately, it’s sometimes necessary to go out on such days — survival doesn’t stop for the weather to pass.

And so journeys must be made, hunting must be done, forageables must be collected. You try to keep to the paths and trails, where the terrain yields before you for an easier journey.

… Until you hear barking through the trees, the sound of paws through the snow. Given the recent wolf activity of the last month, it’s understandable to be on edge. However, it isn’t a wolf that comes into view: it’s a large dog, bigger than any dog you’ve seen before. Coated in thick and shaggy black fur, this animal doesn’t seem to be like the wolves that have been found so far in this world. While the wildlife has certainly been altered, this dog remains very much like anyone would expect a dog to act in terms of behaviour. It’s playful with some, certainly friendly, constantly trying to play chase with you as it loops around in circles with a wagging tail.

However, there’s an insistence with this dog. It wants you to follow it. It will bark incessantly, trying to pull you from the path to go after it into the woods. It wants to show you something, take you somewhere. It will even try to gently pull at a coat-sleeve or trouser-leg to coax your forwards before heading off, keeping just in sight for you to go after it.

You’ll find it increasingly difficult to keep up, even if you pick up the pace as you head further into the woods. There’s less snow here, but the forest floor is filled with holes and tree roots that will trip you up. Falls are likely. But even worse is when before you know it, the ground simply gives way beneath you, sending you tumbling into a small valley or getting you stuck deep into soft, muddy earth. With it, perhaps, twisted ankles or worse. Or perhaps simply battered and bruised and unable to climb out of trench of earth. Maybe you come face to face with the body of some other poor Interloper who'd met their own end in similar manner — trapped and injured in the ditch.

Or worse still, the dog might just have you stumbling over a cliff face and tumbling into the Basin. Whatever fate befalls you, it’s as if the dog simply led you into it. And said dog, however, will be nowhere to be seen. It will have left you stuck, hurt, lost in the woods.

You’re sure you can hear some dark chuckling on the wind. Maybe it’s just the trees.

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.

GUILTY PARTY

1. Characters will find that once they have confessed, they will pass out. When they awaken, they will find themselves lying or sitting on the floor — the being, chairs and chains have gone. They are free to leave.

2. Attempts to search the outbuildings at later dates will prove fruitless. There is no sign of the being, nor the chairs or chains that held characters, but there will be blood on the floor that can be found.

3. One character can confess, or both. Player choice! As long as someone's doing some confessing.

OFF THE BEATEN TRACK

1. Gyests, sometimes called Ghests or Bargyests are evil creatures from Northumberland, UK folklore. They seek to lure travelers away from a known and safe road to their miry and marshy demise, or perhaps lead them to walk in the darkness of a Cheviot night over the edge of a precipice. Often taking the shape of horses, donkeys or large dogs, Gyests could also shape-shift to appear as men, or even stacks of hay. But always their intention was to trick humans, for their own amusement, and lure them to their doom.

2. Attempts to lure or trap the Gyest will not work.

TALES FROM THE NORTHERN TERRITORIES NEWSLETTER

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

arrival.

[ At first glance, it's simple: there's a man and a dog tromping through the snow.

A closer look would reveal that the man is wearing a flat-brimmed campaign hat that has been brushed within an inch of its life, and a vibrantly red coat cut in a military style. Such an onlooker would undoubtedly note how at home this man seems to be, steadily striding through the snow with a long-furred dog at his side.

The keenest of observers might then note, as this pair comes closer, that the dog is no dog at all, but a wolf.

The man holds out a gloved hand as the wolf comes up to sniff their new companion. His voice is friendly. ]

It's all right. I have a license.

[ A... wolf license? Apparently so. ]

guilty party.

[ He sits perfectly straight in his chair, apparently ignoring the chains altogether, and his gaze is clear and steady as he addresses the other in the room. ]

Don't be afraid. You're going to be just fine.

[ Clearing his throat, he lifts his voice a little. ]

Listen, whatever you're hoping to hear, you can hear it from me. Let this innocent bystander go and I'll give you what you want.

off the beaten track

Hmm.

[ He considers the black dog, the faintest crinkling line tugging between his brows. At his side, the wolf growls, low and constant, its teeth sharp and yellow and its eyes fixed on the dog. ]

Well, it's up to you, of course, but I have to say I trust Diefenbaker's judgement. He's a very good judge of character. Uh, usually.

[ But perhaps someone followed the dog after all, in which case they might later see a robin-red figure come searching through the woods. He cups his hands around his mouth and halloos. ]

Hello, there! If you'll just hang on a moment, I'll find a way to get you out of this predicament.

Edited 2023-11-13 02:28 (UTC)

[ The new arrivals are the hardest to deal with. After people have been in Milton for a while and become accustomed to the idea of their frozen prison, the problems become easier to deal with. The loneliness, the despair, the fear of whatever might come for them next. But the newcomers... They're unpredictable, to say the least.

La'an knows she should be the first one to greet every single person who arrives here, but she just can't always manage it. The last batch had stumbled in through the snow while she'd been ill, and even now that the worst of it is long behind her, there are times when she pushes herself too hard and overdoes it. Being forced to rest because her body isn't doing what she's trained it to is beyond frustrating, but there's nothing she can do about it except slowly work to rebuild her stamina and strength.

Which is how she happens to be outside to spot that splotch of red in the distance moving toward the town. She stops to observe its approach, enough of her self-appointed perimeter patrol behind her to take a break, and before long she realizes it's a person coming toward her. A person and a... wolf. That's definitely a wolf.

When they finally reach her, La'an is grateful to see that the wolf is just a normal canine and not the type that attacked the town a few months back. Despite that, she still looks confused as she accepts the man's hand in a firm shake. ]

Right. A license...

[ She glances up at the giant hat and then back to the impossible-to-miss red coat, a frown deepening as she considers how dangerous it might be for him to walk around out there like that. Even she removes her red scarf when she ventures beyond the borders. ]

You've just arrived, haven't you? [ The answer is obvious, but she has to be sure. ]

Yes, ma'am.

[ His grip is firm without being crushing, and his blue eyes are steady as he meets her gaze. ]

Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mountain Police, at your service. And as happy as I am to be back up north, I admit I'm a little surprised to be here. I – Diefenbaker, no.

[ This, along with a stern look, is directed at the wolf, who has been sniffing at the woman's boots. ]

You're being extremely rude.

[ The wolf whines, but settles back onto his haunches, and Fraser turns a slightly abashed glance back on the woman. ]

Please excuse him. He seems to have picked up some shocking manners during our time in Chicago. City living, you know.

[ There is so much to unpack in all of that, La'an almost doesn't even know where to start. Perhaps the best place is finding some measure of comfort in how responsive the wolf (Diefenbaker?) is, which is a great deal better than many dogs she's met over the years. ]

Of course.

[ Said because she's not sure how else to respond to such a comment. (She really isn't the person who should be making this hellscape's version of First Contact, is she?) Tucking her hands into her coat pockets, she takes a deep breath and steels herself for the task ahead. First up: introductions. ]

Lieutenant La'an Noonien-Singh, Starfleet. [ The briefest pause, and then: ] Constable Fraser, what year was it for you? Wherever you were before this.

[ She says it like it's a perfectly normal question, as normal as asking if he had breakfast that morning. How he reacts to what comes next will tell her a lot about him, good or bad. ]

[ He visibly reacts to her introduction, back and shoulders both straightening – somehow, despite being perfectly straight before. Fraser draws himself stiffly to attention. ]

It was 1994, sir.

[ He answers crisply and adroitly, apparently having decided that a superior officer can ask whatever bizarre questions she deems necessary. His own curiosity is running rampant, but he locks it behind a straight-faced expression, unwilling to presume overmuch. In a moment, perhaps, once she's asked whatever else she needs to ask. ]

And it was Chicago, Illinois. Where I was, that is. I was at the Canadian Consulate, where I work. Diefenbaker was there, too – in Chicago, I mean, not at the Consulate, of course. He does occasionally accompany me, but I distinctly recall leaving him in the apartment this morning when I left for work.

Edited 2023-11-13 04:06 (UTC)

[ His reaction to her rank is duly noted and appreciated for what it is. La'an might occasionally bend the rules of Starfleet, but she respects the chain of command and will always follow the orders of her superior officers until given reason not to. She and the constable might not be part of the same service, but they both serve and protect and so he immediately earns her respect for that. ]

Interesting. I don't think I've heard of anyone arriving together from separate locations.

[ The comment is mostly said to herself, her gaze falling back down to the wolf so obediently at his side. But then she lets out a heavy sigh and nods in the direction of town before turning to head back toward the Community Hall. ]

Come on. There are some things you need to know. We'll talk on the way.

Benton Fraser | Due South

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off the beaten track!

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arrival;

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