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

[noahram]

"Not if he keeps losing his rocks," he says, more to himself than to Monoco, really.

Esquie is ... Gustave doesn't really know how to put it into words, but he's glad he at least got the chance to see Esquie before it all went to shit.

He wraps his coat around himself a bit tighter. Walking towards the tell-tale sign of other people also means walking headlong into the wind, and it's sharp against Gustave's face. He's never seen snow before, and now he's practically knee deep in it and it might kill him all over again. They'd only been vaguely prepared for the mountainous regions of the continent when they'd set off.

[feetpictos]

It's not much. But anything is better than nothing.

He looks down as they're walking, and there's some fiddling and annoyed grunting involved, and a quiet "fils de pute" as the chains along his belt jangle - but with a triumphant little laugh, he whips his belt off and the thick leather skirt with it, leaving him as naked (and completely shapeless downstairs) as any other gestral. Apart from the fur.

And then he wraps it around Gustave's shoulders without another word.

[noahram]

Any other given time, Gustave might balk at being draped with something that was covering someone's modesty, but Monoco is a gestral and therefore there's not much to balk about. He doesn't even care that it smells bad (and, truly, with the way he must look it would be hypocritical of him to judge). It's an added, much needed layer of warmth, so he stammers out a thank you.

"You're different than the other gestrals."

Understatement of the year. He's just trying to make conversation to keep his mind off of the pain and the exhaustion and the cold.

[feetpictos]

"And you're not any different from the other expeditioners," he returns dryly, pointedly looking literally anywhere except back at that grateful voice. "Woefully underprepared. You're lucky I found you before some bloody Nevron took your arm and bashed in your skull with it."

Though there's no hiding the way his head tilts down again to look at Gustave's arm, like he's considering it himself for a few seconds.

[noahram]

"N-n-never had any problems with ... Nevrons," he says through gritted teeth.

They'd been faring fine, prepared enough to take on the creatures they discovered along the way. Other humans hadn't been in their calculations. Anyone strong enough to survive the Gommage so many times is impossible to prepare against.

Here, though, with his arm effectively useless and no pictos to rely on, he's as good as dead if they run into one.

"We were doing fine."

[feetpictos]

"Dead doesn't sound very fine to me," he points out without hesitation.

Also without hesitation, he reaches up to grab a low-hanging branch, one with pretty good thickness to it, and with a small hop and a sharp grunt, he simply snaps it off the tree with a resounding crack, like a thunderbolt, that echoes in the silent woods. And then carries it in one hand by his side, walking along with it like a staff without any concern.

There was some comfort in having a weapon on hand.

"You're the-" he turns back to Gustave, leaning in a little to peer at the numbers - Verso taught him to speak English, less to read it - but he recognises it, now. The same design as the rest of the Disaster Team. "...oh. You're thirty-three."

[noahram]

Well ... Gustave supposes if they do find a nevron, he might stand a chance with this weird gestral by his side.

The fingers of his one hand cling tight to the kilt draped around him like a cloak, fingers burning against the wind where they're exposed. Monoco's statement has Gustave turning his head to face him, feeling a sense of unease in the tone of voice.

"What does that mean? Are the others -"

He's not sure he wants to know.

[feetpictos]

"They're alive," he says, a bit too quickly but still genuine. "Maelle, Lune and Sciel."

He's... not sure what else he should say. There's so much that the humans back in Lumiere would never know, that... maybe now they'd never discover for themselves. Not until they get Maelle back there herself.

Merde. Verso owed him for this.

"We're protecting them. Verso and me. Not that they really need it."

[noahram]

There's immediate relief on his face. He's glad they're all right. They're the strongest of the Expedition, they always were. He's not surprised they're making it through.

"S-sorry - you and who?" A pause. "Who are you, exactly?"

[feetpictos]

"Verso."

Pause.

"He's another human."

...a slightly longer pause.

"I am Monoco."

[noahram]

It explains so little. Maybe it's because he's starting to lose feeling in his toes and fingers and face, or maybe it's because he's just happy that the others are still alive out there somewhere. Once things settle down, Gustave's going to have to take a page out of Lune's book and start asking questions.

"Right." He sucks in a breath. "Gustave. I'm Gustave."

[feetpictos]

That makes Monoco stop abruptly, and even without a face he's clearly staring at Gustave.

"...oh."

He's heard the name far too much not to recognise the ghost that's been haunting his friends so closely.

He lurches towards Gustave and picks him up, throwing him over one shoulder - it's actually not as easy as he'd expected, despite their size difference - and setting off at a slightly staggering sprint for the smoke.

[noahram]

It happens very quickly. At first, Gustave thinks they've hit that point where it's just Time To Fight The Gestral, which he's not at all prepared for. He's less prepared for what actually happens, and he's in no place to put up any physical protest.

"Hey -"

The jostling is moderately uncomfortable, but what do you expect when you've been through what he's been through. Gustave recognizes that it's worth it because it means he'll get somewhere warm faster. He just doesn't know what flipped the switch in Monoco.

It must be a gestral thing.

[feetpictos]

It's certainly not as bad as it could be; Monoco's fur provides some small measure of insulation - against both the jarring movement of his shoulder digging into Gustave's chest, and the cold itself, with how surprisingly fluffy he is.

But he's got a good grip, and his makeshift staff does a good job keeping low-hanging branches from smacking Gustave's ass, until they burst through one last set of low branches--

And out into an open stretch of plain, fresh snow, with a few cabins dotted in the near distance, just a couple hundred yards away like they've come out on a small cul-de-sac.

"Huh." He carefully puts Gustave back on his feet. "More humans?"