April 2025 Test Drive Meme

[singmod]

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

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.

THE THING WITH FEATHERS

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.

MISFIT

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.

TALES FROM THE NORTHERN TERRITORIES NEWSLETTER

Comments

[computation]

Bear's more than earned getting some soup on her sadly scavenged clothes, especially if she's about to replace them with something better. He'd really saved her numerous times on the way in, what with her being half-deaf.

"I was lucky that a friend of mine found me," Root admits, finishing one section of hair and moving onto the next with the same determination. "I don't know how long I'd have been out there wandering otherwise. Do you know Shaw?"

She's extremely curious about what kind of oddball friends, as Shaw put it, she's been making around here.

[desperate_times_right]

“Shaw, huh?” Chloe raises her eyebrows. She does know Shaw, but the only thing she knows about where the other woman comes from are a few vague references to a dead girlfriend. Is that what's going on here?

“Yeah, I know her. Good person to have find you in the middle of nowhere.”

[computation]

That's her, one dead girlfriend reporting for duty. Truthfully, Root would love being known as Shaw's dead girlfriend.

"Good person to have find you any time," she answers with a quick wink, perhaps revealing that she's exactly who Chloe's thinking she might be. "How do you know her?"

Tell her everything. Really.

[desperate_times_right]

The only thing Chloe knows about the girlfriend is that Shaw keeps the bullet that killed her in her coat pocket and the girlfriend would think that's romantic. It might not be surprising if this is her.

“We got chased halfway across town by a ghost bear one time.” So normal stuff, really. “And then later she helped out with guard duty when we were getting stalked by a sleep demon or something. She’s great, really. Reminds me of the girl I was working with before I got here.”

[computation]

Root would think that's romantic, mostly because it's so adorably sentimental of Shaw.

Complimenting Shaw is definitely a way to get on Root's good side. She smiles widely and, finally finished with her hair, hands the comb back out to her. She'll need to find some conditioner to really fix things, but it's a lot better than it was.

"So she has been making friends here. Glad to hear it. She's a tough little cookie." Root's tone of voice is absolutely positive.

[desperate_times_right]

Chloe tucks the comb back into her bag with an amused little exhale. Nadine would probably kick Chloe into next week if she called her that.

“I don't know if she’d agree she's making friends.”

Shaw had only really been interested in going to Chloe’s house because she’d wanted to see her cattle prod, but somehow that doesn't seem like the right thing to say to the girlfriend, even if she had been dead at the time.

“Definitely good to have around in a crisis, though. Takes everything in stride, you know?”

[computation]

"She's just like that." Root sounds incredibly fond, even edging toward emotional; it's still so recent to her to have found Shaw again at all, much less for a second time here, that it feels raw and precious.

"If she stood guard duty for you, then you're friends," Root declares definitively. She has no shame whatsoever about speaking on Shaw's behalf. "You'd know if you weren't. Show me where the clothes are?"

There's almost no break between the sentences. Root likes to stay busy but she is more than happy to multi-task and gossip about her girlfriend at the same time.

[desperate_times_right]

Chloe nods. Based on Shaw’s reaction toward the possibility of having to fight the bear that had pursued them to her home, that’s likely true.

“Can’t complain, then. Always good to have friends. They keep this rack in the cellar with all the shit people scavenge that nobody wants, then bring it out on days like these.”

Chloe points in the general direction they're headed before walking off toward it.

“You’re pretty small and there are hardly any women here, so you'll probably have more to choose from than some of the others.”

[computation]

"Don't tell me it's a total sausage fest," Root says with honest exasperation as they tromp down the stairs. "I met another woman on the way in -- Randvi. There's you, me, Shaw, her... Anyone else?"

It's a good way to get a sense of who's around, so it's useful information fishing even beyond her genuine interest. The second they hit the clothing racks, she starts rifling through it, her voice a bit muffled as she keeps up the conversation over her shoulder.

"Not that I'm cruising, but happy to knife a man for anyone who needs it."

Root takes the idea of female empowerment rather literally.

[desperate_times_right]

“Hate to break it to you.” This place is definitely a bit of a boys’ club. “I met a woman who got here with your group, Natalie, and then there's the Viking girl - you met her - and her sister or something. There's a warrior type named Furiosa who helps me out in the greenhouse. And Svetlana, she's a doctor so she's pretty busy. Then there's Wynonna who runs the bar, a sanctimonious high schooler and a couple of guys’ girlfriends that I don't know that well. And Shaw, of course.”

That goes without saying.

“There are a couple of guys I’d steer clear of - Rorschach told me women can't be trusted the first time I met him! - but overall that’s not the problem with these men, so that's good.”

There are problems, but she hasn't really heard about anyone who won't take no for an answer.

[computation]

Root selects a long-sleeved thermal tee and wriggles into it, thinking she's going to need some serious layers around here. It's not intentionally provocative, but there's a complete lack of self-consciousness to her demeanor that is easy to read, utterly confident. She's still listening closely. What a cast. She's absolutely sure she's going to hate whoever the sanctimonious high schooler is, but makes a note to seek out (and maybe hit on?) Furiosa.

"That's something," she says, taking her word for it. Root isn't taking anything for granted but she isn't paranoid, either. There's plenty of terrible people out there that'll present themselves on their own; no need to go looking for it.

"To be fair to Rorschach -- what a name -- I can't be trusted." Root tugs the shirt down into place, straightening the seams; it's a skin-tight layer over her tank top.

She glances up at Chloe, smiling. "Can you?"

[desperate_times_right]

Look, if Root minded people looking then she would ask her to turn around. Shaw doesn't seem like the type to be possessive, so it's probably fine.

She smiles at the levity in the final statement. This girl is fun, and her type is probably Rorschach’s worst nightmare.

“Sure,” Chloe says, shrugging playfully. “Long as you treat me right. Probably not by him.”

[computation]

A body is a physical container as much as it is anything. Mass, a form, confined by the rules and restraints of taking shape. Root sees hers as a tool, a way to express herself or to manipulate others, not a true reflection of herself and therefore nothing she worries about being seen.

Chloe gives the exact right response, sparking a wide, sincere grin from Root.

"I amend my statement: treat me right, and I'm completely trustworthy." She winks, then turns to dig out another layer in the racks of clothes. Over her shoulder: "Tell me about you, Chloe. Where do you come from? Who are you?"

Is that too direct, too personal? Well, Root isn't about to waste time. And she's truly interested after this exchange.

[desperate_times_right]

Chloe laughs. This woman is pretty fun. She’d probably put poor Nadine through the roof, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes those strict military types need a bit of shaking up.

“I was born in India, then spent enough time in Australia to pick up the accent. In this place, I live up on the farm. Most of the vegetables in this feast are mine.”

She's always got a bit of outsized pride about the harvest. She's never really stuck around one place long enough to grow anything.

[computation]

'Strict military type' is an appellation that could be applied to Shaw under a certain definition, and Root would absolutely agree. She loves shaking people up.

Root's also never stuck around in one place long enough to grow anything, so she reads some of the pride there and wonders if that'll be her in enough months. Is she going to get domesticated? Grow vegetables? Hard to imagine, but anything is possible. She hadn't really thought she'd survive the war with Samaritan, so she'd stopped making plans, and she'd lost all of her dreams about stability when she was twelve. Having a future wasn't something someone like her counted on.

"Well, I appreciate your hard work. It's tough to find anything more than meat and cattails out there -- I never thought I'd be so grateful just to eat a potato."

It's a bit of humility she'd come to, realizing how much she takes for granted in modern society where she's comfortable stealing her way through life, skimming off the largesse of rich assholes wherever she's not outright pocketing things. Here, that's not an option -- not ethically; not in a way that would still let her honestly say she followed the Machine -- so she's forced to admit she really does appreciate having a vegetable in her soup.

[desperate_times_right]

Chloe has to smile a bit at the reference: for her very first harvest she’d thrown a party with dishes made from stuff she’d grown. She and her friend - who had at the time been running a restaurant in Lakeside - had tried to come up with a meal the Victorians might enjoy and settled on totally unseasoned potatoes. 'British potatoes' will live in infamy.

“Last summer, things were pretty touch and go. Game retreated, the sun didn't come out for over a month… we were living off old canned stuff and MREs some of the guys stole off a cult. I don't want us to go hungry again.”

[computation]

There's something unifying about the human desire to eat a goddamn potato. Something about the basic starch is just so life-affirming and satisfying, similar to bread but without all the required processing first. Root doesn't know this sparks a reference, but potatoes feel universal to her.

"Very sensible," she says approvingly, then reaches out to grab a sweater and pull it on over the thermal. She's going to need plenty of layers. "I don't have the patience for that, but I'll definitely take advantage of it. How's this work? Is it all sunshine and roses communist paradise, or do we have a barter economy?"

Or maybe somewhere in between, but her point is she's not making assumptions. Newcomers getting a free meal doesn't mean that happens in perpetuity, and Root wants to position herself for survival, learn how things work and get the resources she needs to function in this microcosm of a real society.

[desperate_times_right]

“I didn't think I did either, but now I get so hungry, so it's easier to concentrate.” Her runner power means she needs to eat more to fuel it. “Lots of people help, too. You'd be amazed how much hard labour people will do for the promise of a hot shower.”

She actually doesn't know how a lot of it works, in terms of the support people get at the hall.

“I think they serve meals here, but there's a guy who reopened the old general store. He sells stuff through barter, and he's pretty reasonable.”

[computation]

Root hasn't caught on yet to how all the powers work, so this is an interesting comment to her. Still -- "In exchange for a hot shower? Count me in, too," she says quickly.

No joke on that one; hot showers, along with potatoes, are one of the hallmarks of feeling human.

She straightens up, done perusing the clothing. "Barter it is. Sounds like I need to get scavenging." Sure, she just got here, but Root is planning on taking a nap and then getting back to work. Sitting down feels like death to her... unless there's a computer in front of her.

God, the internet withdrawal is going to be heinous, isn't it? This really is hell.

[desperate_times_right]

“First one’s free,” Chloe says with a smile, “but after that you have to work for it.”

If she starts making exceptions soon everyone in Milton will be using up her hot water.

“A lot of the cabins on the Milton side are pretty picked over. You might have better luck with the resort buildings over in Lakeside.”

[computation]

"Thanks for the tip -- and the free shower. I think I'll save that for now." She can already tell she's going to get a lot more desperate for hot water than she feels right now.

Maybe she could've guessed about Milton being picked over already for herself, but Root does still genuinely appreciate the advice. She levels a smile at Chloe, something like relief filtering in past her habitual defenses.

"I wasn't sure what to expect when we got to town, but it's nice to know it's possible to make friends here."

Root isn't making assumptions; she took that warning about treat me right seriously, respects it; but Chloe is a quantity that she understands, something she recognizes. Some of what's here is absolutely foreign, confusing and off-putting. Finding anything she knows how to handle makes her grateful.

[desperate_times_right]

“Of course. Drop by any time.” Chloe can't help being partial to Shaw, so this woman who has managed to worm past her (well-earned, from what she's heard) defences is interesting.

“The people are the best part of this town. Sometimes the worst part, too.”

[computation]

The same is true in reverse -- Root is extremely curious about anyone Shaw's arguably friends with here, even if she wouldn't use that word herself. Shaw will protect just about anyone who needs it, but Chloe's description implies there was more than that going on.

"Isn't that true everywhere?" Root asks ruefully, some of her own love/hate relationship with humanity coming through.

"Speaking of which, I think I'll go track down my little grumpy muffin. If I bring her some stew I might get some points."

[desperate_times_right]

“She’s probably around here somewhere. She usually sleeps here when she's in town.”

Chloe’s heard that Shaw lives in Lakeside part time, but she doesn't know a lot about it.

“See you around.”

[computation]

"See you -- and thanks for the welcome."

Root will remember this.