October 2023 Test Drive Meme

[singmod]

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

Comments

The Biologist / Southern Reach (book trilogy)

[x12a]

( ooc note: There are no real icons on this account due to there being like four entire fanarts for this canon. I'll add icons but they take time to draw! also note 2: the black device does nothing. its canonical function is to look sus. )

1: OBSERVATION (arrival)

[ What the Biologist notes, on waking:

- Temperature. No way of knowing what date it really is, thanks to the organization's "orientation". At a guess, it's late spring, early summer. Nothing like this impossible cold.
- Flora. Nothing unusual about the dry grass, or the powdery dirt underfoot, or the other scrubby plantlife in her surroundings. Characteristic of boreal climates? Nothing like the northeastern coastline she arrived from.
- The stiffness of her shoulder, where she'd been shot. Hard to tell from the cold numbing her senses, but something feels different.
- The silence. It's more than the lack of noise. There's an absence, a lack of presence that she can't put her finger on. ]

[ To an outside observer: In the middle of a plain, there's a tall, heavyset human crouched on the ground. She's dressed like a field researcher, with dried blood spattering her shoulder and side, though she doesn't look like she's actively bleeding. She doesn't exactly look military, with no insignas or weaponry (besides a black device with a red lens attached to the belt), but not exactly civilian, either. ]

[ If undisturbed, she just... stays still for an uncomfortably long time, simply observing; more like a wild animal frozen in place than a human. If approached, however, she jolts into motion, backpedalling and reaching for a nonexistent gun at her belt, her hand clutching at empty air. ]

Who is... [ Her voice comes out in a dry croak, like she's lost her voice. ] How did you pass the barrier?

2: HYPOTHESES (off the beaten track) (cw: examination of a corpse)

[ Milton isn't exactly a major municipality, but even the presence of a few dozen people is like nails on a chalkboard. Volunteering to forage in the wilderness isn't just out of the good of her heart. She ventures out on her own — at the sound of distant barking, her first instinct is to give it a wide berth: If it's a feral dog or an abandoned pet, she knows they're too unpredictable to handle alone. ]

[ Then she finds a piece of Milton left out in the woods. So to speak. ]

[ It's a corpse, lying a few yards away from the forest path. Legs twisted, as if broken or sprained. Clothes are torn and filthy. Maybe a day or two old, but with the subzero temperatures, who could really say? Anyone else coming down this path will find her kneeling by the body; her expression is hard to read even in the best of times, and she's certainly a closed book, now. ]

Keep your distance. [ A hypocrisy, coming from her. By way of explanation, the Biologist holds up a gloved hand: ] Not all microbes die in cold.

… death by exposure, if I were to speculate. They were unable to walk, and tried to crawl home. If there's wolves in the area as they say, it's curious they haven't touched the cadaver… [ She pauses (for her, three sentences in a row is an extended speech), then adds carefully: ] Recognize them?

1

[solitarysoul]

[Oh. Until she talked Levi hadn't been sure that this person was alive. Or even a person and not just some strange rock formation or animal. When she does speak, though, he takes a step back and holds his hands up. He's got a rifle slung over his back, but his hands are empty.]

S-sorry...There's a barrier?

[x12a]

The border. [ As if that would explain anything. ]

[ Her eyes flick to the rifle on the boy's back, and the Biologist settles back down on her haunches, as nonthreatening as she can manage, given the circumstances. Even if the boy's not going for the gun, she's not eager to get shot a second time in as many days. ]

The region's been deserted for thirty years. How did you get in? [ A theory occurs to her, and she narrows her eyes: ] Did they send another expedition already?

[solitarysoul]

Ah..!

[Was she someone from around here?! Gods he has so many questions he could ask! But, no, 30 years? No way the dead bodies had been that old, even if they were frozen. Damn.]

No, it hasn't been that long. You aren't in, um, wherever you came from.

[x12a]

[ No? ]

You seem sure of that.

Where is this? Canada? Northern Europe? [ It was not possible for her to teleport from the east coast and end up hundreds of miles elsewhere, with no memory of the transference... just like it was not possible for, say, the previous expedition's members to have reappeared in their own homes. If that had happened to her... ]

[ She holds up a warding hand at Levi: ]

You should keep your distance.

[solitarysoul]

Um. Milton. ....Canada?

[Was that right? He's not familiar with where or what "Canada" was but he's pretty sure he's seen or heard it related to Milton somehow.]

Somewhere north. Probably.

[He takes a step back.]

Okay. I won't come closer.

2

[jackdawvision]

Aye, a little bit. [Edward pushes his hood down, steps slightly closer so he can get a better look at the corpse.] I didn't know him well, though. Only spotted him around the town once or twice.

[And now he's dead. Edward's no stranger to death, but this is a terrible way to die, and he wonders if this fellow had any friends around the town who would miss him. Who would want to know about his death.]

Might be the wolves are warier than they used to be of coming near the town. We've been fighting them off with what we can, when they come too close. [He scratches at the side of his nose, thinking.] I don't like the idea of leaving him out here, still, though the wolves have been avoiding us of late. I don't know about microbes but—safest to bury him, I believe.

[x12a]

[ Well, that's a relief, getting a matter-of-fact response instead of, oh, being accused as a murderer for being found with a body. It's hard to predict how people respond, sometimes. ]

Illness -- disease. It is possible he was sickening with something before he died... [ A little hastily: ] Though I'm not a doctor.

[ She frowns over the description of the wolves' behaviour, almost more distracted by that puzzle compared to the dead stranger, but she can't help her nature. ] Has something changed to drive them away?

[jackdawvision]

[If it helps, Edward's pretty sure if she did murder the guy, she'd be smart enough not to stick around for just anyone to stumble on her studying the body.]

But the cold killed him first. [He shivers, but it's not quite the cold that's got him worried.] Why not? You seemed to guess his death well enough. What sort of disease do you think it was?

[So he knows if he can take the guy's boots and jacket or if he should burn the body, clothes and all, and bury the charred remnants.]

Well. You see, it turns out they don't like it very much when you kill a number of them.

2

[bigbaddy]

[ .. well, this sure is a scene.

A scene that isn't even necessarily all that unfamiliar to Bigby. It comes with the territory of sheriff back home, even though he'd prefer it didn't. Sometimes people do turn up dead like this, and with the relative lack of people who did the kind of work the Biologist is doing over there, he often had to do it himself.

So if anything does catch him off guard by it, it's having this being said to him, instead of him being the one trying to determine it. It's just surprising enough that he momentarily misses her question, instead frowning as he answers with: ]

Is this your job or something?

[x12a]

No.

[ Sorry, Mr. Wolf, but she can't think of an occupation she'd like less than being a detective. The Biologist rises to her feet, steadying herself on a nearby tree trunk, before clarifying, stiffly: ]

I only wish to... avoid misunderstandings. People jump to conclusions, when confronted with... these situations.

[ In other words: She didn't do it. ]

[bigbaddy]

I wasn't thinking you did it.

[ Which is actually saying something, considering that it's not like Bigby is exactly the kind of person who assumes the best out of other people all the time.

But with the way the Biologist is lingering by the body-- it's hard to imagine she's the culprit here. Either she'd have to be a really brazen culprit or a total idiot to stick around the scene of the crime like this, and she at least doesn't seem like the latter, so it doesn't leave a whole lot of options. ]

And so far most people here don't seem that trigger-happy.. [ A vague hand gesture, followed by: ] For better or worse.

[ He shakes his head. ]

Also not that curious to find dead bodies around here. We had to clear out the entire town of those when we first showed up here.

arrival!

[fidior]

[ It's been some time since Edward's own arrival into this strange place (strange but also so achingly familiar to him), and when word gets out of newcomers, the first lieutenant sets out — his usual patrols of the town spreading out into something more outright, searching. Seeking out any who may be new and lost here, to assist them with finding their way to the safety of Milton.

As usual, he wears the uniformed greatcoat and officer's cap of the Royal Navy, and he keeps his shotgun to his back, one gloved hand holding tightly to its strap round his shoulder to secure the weapon as he moves. His boots move heavily through the snow, a steady trudge as he checks all of the smaller abandoned shacks out here, as well as makes his way across the landscape itself. He well-knows how unforgiving the cold can be, even if this particular environment is different in many ways from the frigid ice he'd been trapped on for years before.

When he spots a figure up ahead, the man approaches carefully, knowing how alarming the appearance of a stranger can be, when one is already confused by these bizarre, impossible circumstances. But his boots make sound and he's hardly a lithe figure of his own, and when the woman is alerted to him she reacts with the startle he'd been fretful for. Edward draws to an immediate halt, holding up his free hand, a gesture he means to be pacifying. ]

My apologies for startling you, madam, [ he calls, his own voice rich and Very British, but slightly hoarse in its own, given the sharp cold that has seeped into his throat, rubbed it raw. By "barrier", he is assuming, to begin with, that she simply means an entrance into this place — of which no one has been able to locate. The environment becomes too dangerous, the further out from Milton one goes. ]

I awoke here, some weeks ago. If there is an entrance, I did not cross it on my own. I know it sounds... impossible, but whomever brought you here has also brought me.

Re: The Biologist / Southern Reach (book trilogy)

[bestsir]

Goodsir sees the woman bent over the corpse and approaches cautiously. He's a little surprised by her cool assessment of the situation and comes a little closer, though keeping his distance as she bid.

"I don't know them," he says. "But this is not the first corpse I have seen like this in this place."