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singillppl2023-10-09 11:52 pm
singmod) wrote in singillppl2023-10-09 11:52 pm
Entry tags:
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
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. 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.
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.
zoro — one piece ( la )
hm.
it's freaking cold and he's definitely not dressed for this oh so pleasant weather, so he makes the executive decision to get up and go off in search of... well, anything, really. he gets up and brushes the snow off of himself, straps his sword belt on and heads off.
by the time he locates the path — not his fault, the path clearly just moved around a lot in the woods — he's nearly at the village. town. whatever it is. not that zoro would ever admit to anything, but he may or may not speed up when he sees the smoke rising.
warmth.
it sort of hurts his skin and bones as he begins to slowly defrost, but again, not like he'd say anything. briefly he wonders where he's going to have to steal a coat from once he's done filling up on the food spread out. he gathers up some of the meat, stew, and tea, and moves to sit directly in front of the fire, uncaring that he's on the floor. while he's eating he won't really speak unless spoken to, but once he's done and squared away the dishes he used, he'll return to the fire, this time wrapped in a scratchy blanket and a little more open to conversation; )
You know anything about this place?
02 — guilty party
he's used to getting lost, but this is a little bit ridiculous that it's happening this much.
there's someone else here, but zoro doesn't really care. he hears the stupid thing accuse him and zoro just stares blankly at it. big deal, he's a sinner. oh no.
he exhales a breath, not really wanting to waste time doing this. confessing to anything and everything he's done isn't something that matters to him, his heart isn't burdened with anything. so, it's a simple thing to just, rather blandly speak up, )
I've killed people who deserve it for money.
( okay. now let him out. )
03 — wildcard
guilty party (I COULD NOT RESIST)
he's going to die. that sickle is going straight into his neck because he's not — he can't — confess to anything. not with zoro right there, as nonchalant as can be, oblivious to the fact that sanji, if given the choice, would break his own legs rather than confess to get out of here.
this isn't about zeff. zeff was the best thing to ever happen to him, after luffy. no, this is about uttering the vinsmoke name after swearing it off, that he might have that cursed blood in him after all, that his mom sacrificed herself for nothing — if that doesn't make wickedness swim all through him — ]
Shit. [ sanji looks wildly at the creature, trying to lean forward. ] Fuck off, you dog-headed shitbag.
no subject
usually.
that's like accepting living in regret and zoro's not really about that life. he looks forward, moves forward, doesn't waste time looking over his shoulder at things that were or even the things that could have been. it's just a waste of time as far as he's concerned.
he exhales a heavy breath as he glances over at sanji as he spits something venomous at the glowing green dog thing. )
Yeah, because that's going to get you free, dumbass.
( he looks at the mask again, his expression rather bored and his tone to match, )
I've stolen berry, food, clothes, booze. I've picked fights for fun. ( he sighs again trying to think of things but feels like he's running out. murder seemed like the biggest deal and he thought he'd get free from that. ) I gave someone an unwilling haircut?
no subject
he wishes he were here with luffy instead of zoro. luffy, he trusts. zoro, he tolerates because he's luffy's first mate, nami's friend, and an okay swordsman.
showing this much weakness in front of this shithead is unbearable. ]
An unwilling haircut makes you wicked? [ this idiot doesn't even understand the assignment. well, maybe the murder part. the bounty thing was pretty shitty, but then again, there are a lot of shitty pirates on the seas. ] It's looking for guilt, moron.
[ somehow insulting zoro makes him calmer. ]
no subject
suddenly he's wondering if confessing to daydreaming about murder is considered in his wickedness scale. because he's highly considering it right now.
zoro's lips thin in annoyance as he glances askance at sanji sitting over there, almost wishing that glowing dog head would set them free so they could just fight each other and be done with it. )
I don't feel guilty, dumbass. Everything I've done, I own it. ( there might be one thing that's tickling the back of his mind in an attempt to be noticed and, perhaps, thought about more. but, that's a last resort; zoro doesn't want to talk about it in front of this asshole. ) Don't see you offering anything. At least I'm trying.
no subject
Try harder, shitbag.
[ it's... not fair at all for him to say that, and yet. zoro is the one who started shooting off his damn mouth in the first place, so if he wants to keep talking (for once), this is one situation in which sanji certainly isn't going to be the one to stop him.
but to not feel guilty about anything... that feels so far from possible that there's no way it could be true. not even zoro could be absolved of such a fate. he doesn't know the swordsman very well, but something had to have happened to him to make him such a freak. ]
You've killed a lot of people. [ sanji's stomach churns with disgust, not at zoro's actions, but at himself. he shouldn't be digging into anyone's wounds; it's not right, even with how much zoro annoys him. he should just get up and crack his skull open like a real man. he would, if he could get out of these shitty chains. ] There's not a single one that still weighs on your mind? You've never — never fucked anything up before?
no subject
what a baby.
zoro exhales an impatient breath, shifting in his chair to find a more comfortable position to sit in since it seems he's not going to be getting free anytime soon. he won't look at sanji, just stares at the glowing thing, but he can see him in his periphery and it makes his lip curl in annoyance. )
No. ( is that in response to never fucking anything up or something that might still weigh on his mind? maybe both. ) "Pirate Hunter," remember? ( the air quotes are absolutely heard. ) Everyone I killed deserved it. What's to feel guilty about?
methuselah's feast
Whatever it is, he's not sure the cause matters. What does matter is this: one of his traps caught a deer recently, and Din wants to contribute to the welcoming feast. The new people will be arriving hungry, and frozen, and it is in the community's best interest to help them survive.
He isn't paying much attention to the actual people themselves, and he doesn't make small talk. He's just a delivery service strapped with a spear and a lightsaber and multiple long guns, but as he's about to carry the bundled deer carcass into the kitchen, a question stops him.
"Yeah. If you see wolves with glowing green eyes, run." Din's reply comes out dry. "Or aim for their throats. Once one member of the pack is killed or injured, the rest will run away."
no subject
alright then.
not exactly what zoro had been expecting, but not the worst information to get, either. though, anything with glowing eyes is something that people shouldn't engage with. well, people that aren't him who don't yet know when to walk away when he should. to zoro it sounds like a slightly good time. )
Got it. ( he says it mildly, but there's an interested look shining in his eyes that spells trouble, probably. but, it's fine. no big deal. ) They hang around here often?
methuselah's feast
Maybe Roy looks like he knows what's going on because he looks like a local, wrapped up in layers of clothing - including a beanie on his head - found in abandoned shops and housing. Or maybe he's got the look of a competent adult, which couldn't be further from the truth. ]
Yeah. [ He has a mouthful of his stew and chews for an unnecessary amount of time, keeping the young man in suspense before finally continuing after swallowing the food down. ] It's shit.
[ It's an unhelpful dick of a reply. Then he gives a serious answer: ]
Don't know much more than you do, son.
no subject
he just wants information and the only way he's going to get it is if he asks whoever's around. regardless if they want to be asked or not.
anyway.
zoro simply nods when the assessment comes; he believes it, it is shit so far and he's not really all that happy about things. he does, however, lift one brow at being called son. that's weird. is that a thing people do?? )
Yeah, I kinda figured that one out on my own. Thanks. ( for nothing??? ) Where'd you get the clothes?
no subject
Sale at H&M. [ He can tell that joke didn't land well. His humour is so underappreciated. ]
Nicked them from abandoned shops and houses. [ Noticeably he's wearing all black, like he's dressed for a funeral. He doesn't do colour, which is why he can't stop staring at Zoro's hair. He wants to ask him if he lost a bet, but he might be sensitive when it comes to his hair. One friend(?) back home throws a tantrum whenever anyone calls his hair blonde and not "walnut mist". ]
Here. [ He pulls off his beanie hat and tosses it his way. ] I've got another. [ It won't stop Zoro from freezing his balls off but it's all Roy's willing to part with. ]
no subject
haha............................................. ha.
well, at the very least, he doesn't have any regarding his parents. doesn't remember them, so doesn't really care. it's just weird to hear anyone call him son; so it's mostly just left him more confused than anything. he's used to cursing at him, which probably says a lot.
zoro's head tilts slightly to the side, not unlike a dog trying to parse what a sound is, which is exactly what h&m is to him. just a sound. the hell is that even? maybe if he knew he'd find the joke funny ( he does, after all, enjoy dry humor so maybe roy will get him yet ). he does catch the hat, stares at it for a second, then rises to his feet. sounds like he's got some pilfering to do. )
Thanks. ( for the hat, the info. he fixes a steady look on the other man for a moment. then, as he lifts the hat to jam it on his head, ) There something on my head and this is you trying to be subtle?
no subject
Once the young man's hair is covered up, Roy thinks he's done him a favour to help him blend in more. Standing out could put him at risk. (And maybe that says a lot about why Roy always wears black. Black was safe.) ]
Your hair. [ Be kind, a voice that sounds American and annoying and basically like Lasso in his head but he can't do it. He can't not make fun of him just a little. ] Reminds me of Kermit. The frog. No offence.
[ This is why Roy has no friends. ]
Methuselah's Feast
He had determined that filling himself with warm food and gathering what information he could was the best first step forward in the current situation. This meant sipping at his tea and listening to idle chatter around the fire.
For now. ]
Besides the food being okay enough?
[He asked dryly, a pleasantly polite and superficial smile on his face.]
Oh, not much yet. Only that we're very far from home.
no subject
or something.
zoro exhales a sharp amused breath through his nose. the food's enough for sustenance. not the best he's ever had, but also not the worst. so, at least there's that. )
Yeah, kinda figured that out myself. This sure as hell doesn't look like a ship.
no subject
[Dark eyes, the same color as plums or imported dyes, brightened up at the thought.]
Oh that's nostalgic. I worked a ship for years before I found the people I'm looking for in this place.
guilty party
still. getting forced in any capacity has a way of kicking up kneejerk recalcitrance. keith glances first at the other guy trapped with him, then at the shady figure with the sickle. ]
And I'm thinking about murder right now.
[ needlessly antagonizing? yes. for the moment, however, the figure does not speak, allowing the sickle as it is slowly raised to do the talking.
dig deeper, perhaps? ]