methuselah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
singmod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singillppl2025-04-04 10:29 pm
singmod) wrote in singillppl2025-04-04 10:29 pm
Entry tags:
April 2025 Test Drive Meme
APRIL 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 — THE THING WITH FEATHERS: The Aurora has long since begun to alter the behaviours of animals in the world, and the Interlopers face a threat from above.
PROMPT THREE — MISFIT: Interlopers haven’t been feeling themselves lately. And one day they wake up to find they aren’t themselves at all: they’re someone else.
ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST
WHEN: Mid-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 sun is bright, enclosed in light fog. It is a strange kind of twilight.
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. Once more, you poor souls come.” 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.
THE THING WITH FEATHERS
WHEN: Throughout the month.
WHERE: Milton area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: animal attacks, altered wildlife, gore, possible character injury/death, possible animal injury/death.
It is no secret that nature has been warped here somehow. Interlopers discovered this in the very early days of their time in the Northern Territories, when packs of wolves descended upon Milton. A frightening and terrible thing to try and survive — plenty were injured in the attack, a few unlucky Interlopers even lost their lives during that time.
There have been other ways in which the world around them has become strange: extreme weather, shifts to the flora of the world, changes in native animal behaviour, supernatural creatures, beats from the world’s old stories—
It is hard to tell what may happen next.
The flocks of crows are common sight enough, soaring through the skies, and often the heralds of death: a body, human or animal is close by. But soon enough, the crows began to gather in large groups around Milton. They watch the Interlopers with interest, and seem less easily scared by the people around them. That is the start of things.
Over time, their behaviour grows… unsettling. Interlopers who attempt to chase, scare or even hunt the birds will be met with squawks and even attempts to divebomb. Crows are very intelligent creatures, after all. They recognise the fact that someone is trying to harm them. An Interloper might even kill a crow will be met with raucous anger with their fallen fellow crow. They Will Remember That.
But what is stranger still is to see the birds fighting amongst themselves whilst in flight.
It’s hard to tell why the crows fight one another, but it’s a startling sight to see: the birds tackling into one another, talons trying to rip one another to shreds as they swoop and rise in the chilly air. Some will die, too, and even if one misses such fights in the skies — it is common to find the bloodied remains in the snow, feathers strewn about.
Soon enough, Interlopers may find themselves jumping at the sudden sound of something quick slamming against a door, a window, a roof, a half-buried car in the ground. Investigating will find freshly-dead crows with broken necks, glass cracked where their beaks have struck glass, blood upon wood.
And in time, the birds will stop their assault against themselves. They will turn their attentions to those below: other animals, and to the Interlopers themselves — flocking in huge groups to divebomb the unsuspecting below.
To be set upon is to be met with beaks and claws: the birds are set upon tearing you to shreds, a fluttering fury whirling around you. The best you can do is to try and protect your body from the attack, or run. The birds will be kept back by flames, filling the air with burning feathers as they try to flee — but the best that can be done is Interlopers find somewhere indoors to hide. At the very least, these birds are no stronger than usual animals changed by the Aurora — but they will likely cause some damage to buildings, particularly windows, as they try to get themselves inside.
In time, they will give up their pursuit, finding something else to focus their attention on — whether it be another unfortunate Interloper or some other poor animal.
MISFIT
WHEN: Throughout the month of April.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: personality shifts; body-swapping; possible themes of body dysmorphia; potential body horror, of a sort.
In the month of April, Interlopers have days when they feel….. off. It’s in little ways, at first. Maybe you don’t feel as brave as you normally are, or feel a little more melancholy when your spirit is usually upbeat. Changes in your personality. Little things.
Or perhaps it’s particular habits you keep. Maybe you find yourself not liking your tea the usual way like it. Maybe you find yourself less of an early bird, or prefer to sleep in a different position that you usually do. Those sorts of things.
It is really all that strange, considering the circumstances? Far from friends, family? Stranded in an unfamiliar place, with little-to-no luxuries or even the most basic amenities? Cold and hungry and afraid? God forbid someone feel unlike themselves for existing in this place, just trying to survive.
Eventually, you realise, something is far more wrong than those little shifts in personality or in personal habits. One morning you wake up and you feel… physically different. The weight of you shifts differently, and as you pull yourself out of bed, your perspective is different. Your limbs don’t feel like your own, and as you look at yourself— it doesn’t look like you.
It’s only when you find yourself a mirror do you really realise: you aren’t you at all, you’re someone else.
You’re in someone else’s body.
How do you broach this new existence? Do you roll with it? Do you recognise who you’ve become? Do you feel shame, embarrassment, or an opportunity to cause a little chaos? Are you curious, or very much determined to put an end to this nonsense? Are you horrified? Feeling a deep and strange feeling of wrongness?
Go look, and you’ll…. Well, find yourself. Eventually, somewhere in town is the person whose body you’re currently stuck in, now stuck in yours.
Good luck dealing with that, Interloper.
It’s not permanent, though. Probably. Maybe.
What’s that old saying? Something about walking a mile in someone else’s shoes? That might have something to it.
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. Interlopers who have hunted the crows previously will find themselves subject to more aggression in their attacks, and the crows will be less likely to give up their hunt for them if they choose to hide.
2. Which... yes, you can eat the crows. It isn't recommended, as they are carrion birds.
1. This prompt is pretty flexible in how players wish to approach this! Interlopers can wake up in the other's home in the other's body and come face to face with a stranger's home and potential housemates. Alternatively, they can find themselves in their own homes but their body has swapped. This would also mean that whatever clothes they happened to wear to bed that night would now not properly fit them. Oops.
2. Interlopers can undo the body swap by talking it out and trying to reach a moment of empathy and understanding with the other.
3. If Interlopers don't reach that understanding, the 'curse' will eventually run its course after 72 hours.
no subject
Ah, there it was. The Tim Gutterson he remembered. Raylan lifts his eyebrows in return over a bite of fish. He'd made a little bit of personal progress in not feeling a sharp pinch of deep, secret shame at what a comment like that might bring to mind, but not enough to treat it any differently than he ever had. Rolling with the punches as they come.]
Seems whatever got you here was kind enough to include your pants then, ain't you lucky.
It's not what I meant, no. What I was askin' about is work. The most recent case.
[Yes, Raylan was angling to find out if he and Tim were anywhere near each other on the timeline but also, after nearly a year, he was hungry for the normalcy that Tim brought with him. Until this place rubbed that away, Tim represented what life used to be like, when all they had to worry about were assholes and hillbillies with guns.]
no subject
This is gonna be another one of those really inexplicable weird things, isn't it? ]
Markham's dead, Ava's in the wind with his money. Boyd's in custody, hopefully for the last time if everyone does their damn jobs right this time.
[ Fucking Nelson. ]
no subject
He didn't know who Markham was, not really - there was a story told fourth hand but not enough to manifest as real remembrance - Ava and Boyd were shacked up and probably causing some sorta trouble they didn't know about yet last he'd known, and an open maw of dark accusatory curiosity spawned in Raylan's stomach. The unknown future.]
Well shit. [A breath in through his nose and a lift of his eyebrows and he's picking up his fork again, but doesn't quite manage to get it back into his food before it's handle is set down. His jaw works a little, unconsciously, as he works out how to explain.]
You've got the advantage then because not a goddamn word of that is familiar. Last case I remember is Dickie Bennet and Dewey Crowe breakin' out of prison. Goin' after ol' Mags money.
no subject
That was--
[ Months ago. Cases upon cases upon cases ago. Tim puts down his fork, too, leaning forward with his forearms against the edge of the table. He's trying to puzzle this together, but there's no damn puzzle. It's just a few stray pieces that might not even be from the same set. For once, he doesn't try too hard to school the confusion and frustration out of his face. ]
Dickie Bennet's back in prison. You shot him in the leg. You don't remember that? [ It's more of a rhetorical question, because obviously not. ] And Dewey Crowe is dead.
no subject
At least some things in the world are right, I guess... Does he limp on the other side now too? Dickie?
[There was still no part of Raylan that felt even the slightest bit bad for Dickie Bennet - slimy little shit earned the shot, he has no doubt. Raylan rubs at his forehead for a second before his hand falls back to the table.]
Maybe one night you'll tell me about the shit I haven't gotten too yet. Shame you don't pay attention to the market, we could back to the future some stocks into our bank accounts.
no subject
[ This is weird. This is maybe the weirdest part he's encountered so far. It was practically just yesterday that Raylan was packing up his desk to head to Florida. Does that mean that Raylan isn't real? Is this Raylan real? He's going to drive himself crazy if he keeps trying to sort this out. ]
Wait--
What's the last thing you remember then?
no subject
Raylan sighs before he answers, resenting the fact that he was answering at all, considering the bullshit answer he'd gotten when he'd asked.]
You remember a guy named Ash Murphy? Who may or may not have gotten under my tires while we were huntin' for God's dumbest children. I was drivin' back down to Limehouse's. Saw someone pulled off weirdly off the side'a the road and decided to investigate. Couple steps out, I half trip over a rock and end up face first in the snow out here.
Not even a fuckin' UFO, ya know? Negative one outta five stars.
no subject
[ He's listening, enough that he looks vaguely amused at the idea of Raylan tripping and face planting in the snow. The resulting blind panic probably wasn't as funny, but hey. That's life, apparently.
But he's also thinking, creating a timeline from his memory of the cases and deaths this Raylan wouldn't remember. Most of them aren't important, but two of them kind of are.
Gary and Arlo.
Shit. ]
Makes sense, you gettin' in trouble by bein' nosy.
[ It's said a little distractedly, which isn't very typical of him. He's looking across the table at Raylan, eyes narrowed, debating. He sighs. ]
Raylan-- How much do you wanna know?
no subject
It pauses so he can watch Tim think, eyebrows lifting oh so slightly as Tim fixes his gaze on him. He couldn't begin to guess what Tim knew that he didn't, not with how wild real life was, but he knew he didn't want to get any bombs dropped on him here.]
Ignorance has never served me too well, Tim. I wanna know all of it but do me a favor and hold off until we're not here. You can come by the house, we'll have a drink, and we can trade, how's that sound.
[Where he can figure out how to shoulder whatever it was without so many eyes on him.]
Hard enough, showin' up in a place like this. Better that you focus on keepin' your head straight for the first night, huh? 'Sides, I think you're getting the rawer end of this trade, considerin' what's livin' in Lakeside's lake. And I haven't even mentioned the mine yet - if it wasn't cold as balls, it'd almost be like bein' in Kentucky.
[Which was still not a compliment by any means.]
no subject
[ Did you miss his snark, Raylan? A whole year without it must've sucked.
This is fine. It means he can eat and not have to worry about breaking the news right this second. Not that he recalls Raylan having a particularly strong reaction in any direction, to either deaths. Still, he didn't have to be the one to tell him last time. And he's trying not to think too hard about the fact that there's now a this time.
Things in the lake, things in the mines-- It sounds like a fucking episode of Scooby Doo. ]
You sure there's not a man in a mask runnin' around here? We already go the dog -- round up a couple more meddlin' kids and we'll be in business.
no subject
He gives Tim a wry smirk and sighs out of his nose with a lift of his eyebrows.]
Don't say that too loud. Otherwise the Darkwalker is gonna take up that position. And I'm afraid that there's no pullin' off his mask. It's mask. Even if we did, I'm sure he'd make us suffer for it.. We do have a few kids here, though most of them are left from the Forest Walker attack. Bums me out, if I'm honest.
[Kids shouldn't be here. It was barely habitable to begin with; how were they supposed to have a decent childhood here? Where there wasn't even a school. Raylan shakes his head, cup in his hand half lifted to his lips.]
Did Art retire yet? Rachel take over the office and give you all hell?
no subject
Fuck.
[ Listen. Tim's not a kids guy. He's even less of a teenagers guy, honestly. They're both their own category of annoying and he'd rather do prisoner transport duty for a month than deal with either. But it's absolutely fucked up that whatever forces may be deemed it appropriate to bring children here. At least wait until they're old enough for Uncle Sam to try and persuade them to pick up a gun.
He sighs, pushing his food around for a moment before taking a bite. He knows he needs to eat, but it's hard when the alarm bells won't stop ringing. That'll probably last a few days. ]
Not exactly. Got a little taste of it when Art got shot and Rachel was actin' chief. [ Taking a long drink of water before continuing, because the suspense is kind of funny. ] Don't worry, he's still kickin' and you're still bein' a pain in his ass.
no subject
Better to focus on what Tim is saying - Raylan's eyebrows lift at the news of Art getting shot and he huffs something close to a laugh at the assurance.]
So I'm still doin' my job then. Rachel musta loved gettin' a taste of what gets thrown at the big chair. What's Art doin' gettin' shot? Someone break into the office, start some shit?
[It wouldn't be the first time and Raylan always worried. He'd know Art a hellva long time and considered him a friend.]