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singillppl2025-06-04 11:05 pm
singmod) wrote in singillppl2025-06-04 11:05 pm
Entry tags:
June 2025 Test Drive Meme
JUNE 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 — WHAT LIES BENEATH: New fissures caused by seismic activity within the Northern Territories physiologically alters the Interlopers who check them out.
PROMPT THREE — SUFFOCATION RISK: Interlopers find it hard to breathe, and need a helping hand to catch a breather.
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.
WHAT LIES BENEATH
WHEN: The month of June.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural ailments; mental manipulation; altered physiological states; potential character injuries; potential dangerous situations; potential cold injuries.
The world has gone quiet since last month’s quake that caused a considerable amount of damage around the Milton and Lakeside regions. Newer Interlopers have been met with a town still in the process of being repaired and rebuilt, and some properties have been abandoned all together, used only for spares and repairs of homes that are actually occupied. Milton was home to some thousand people in its hey-day, now it remains a shell of itself. Some hundred or so people making this place a home in a harsh and unforgiving world.
But the world is not completely quiet: tremors and minor quakes can still be felt as time goes on. These tremors don’t have the same impact as earlier quakes, but they’re enough to give someone pause — keeping Interlopers on their toes.
What’s more is the damage caused by this ongoing seismic activity is dotted all over the landscape: scars are beginning to show in the earth itself, or rather — open wounds.
The fissures are small and unassuming, but can easily snag someone’s attention. Even more curious about them is the occasional strange vapours that seem to curl and lazily rise from these fissures. The vapours are a faint green in colour, almost sickly, and there’s plenty enough in you to make you feel like you should keep well away from these rising fogs. But there’s something about curiosity and cats, after all.
The vapours won’t kill you, no. They certainly won’t do you any physical harm, either. No instant burning of the strange, caustic fog that plagued Interlopers last year, nor the sickness that Glimmerfog brought.
But getting close enough to the vapours to examine them will cause a change in you. It’s more of an insidious thing: gradual and slow, changes in your behaviour over the course of a week. Feeling a little more anxious than normal; snapping at people you interact with; avoidance of others; the feeling of being watched and a growing paranoia. You feel like the animal that has known the feel of the snare, or seen the barrel of the gun. Hunted and small.
Soon enough, this slow chipping away at your mind is enough to cause you to snap: fight or flight.
Fighters are lost into states of pure rage. They are combative, blind to anger in a desperate bid to survive — seeking out their dangers to face them head on. They are volatile, difficult to reason with. They will cause damage to anything around them, or anyone. They will cause damage to buildings, objects — smashing their way through whatever stands in their way. They will fight with those around them — their fellow Interlopers — lost in perceived threats.
Flighters are lost into states of pure fear. They’ll break down in crying fits, hysteria and abandon all logic — avoiding their dangers. They will try to escape from wherever they may be — wanting to run out into the wilds, putting them in potentially more dangerous situations. They could end up getting lost in the wilds, or encountering dangerous wildlife like moose, wolves or bears. Or perhaps even onto thin ice on bodies of water. They will hide whenever they can: under beds, in caves, anywhere their minds might tell them are places of safety.
To those around them, it’s finding a way to try and bring the affected Interloper back to their senses. It’s a little stumbling in the dark: wrangling flighters back to the safety of town, like trying to calm a spooked horse and give them a sense of safety and care and connection might be enough to bring them back to their sense. Fighters can arguably be dealt with the same way, but some might need restraining or fighting back in order to knock some sense into them. Perhaps even literally. Drawing blood in a fight with Fighters will also… strangely calm the affected Interloper down.
Affected Interlopers will be a little shaky afterwards. But a stiff drink or a hot meal and some rest will end up soothing them. Hopefully they won’t go poking around those fissures again.
SUFFOCATION RISK
WHEN: The month of June.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural afflictions; themes of suffocation; themes of co-dependency/unhealthy codependency; potential character death/near-death experience; medical emergencies.
You think that maybe it’s the weather. The Northern Territories have been known for unsettled and sometimes ferocious climate — this is the world of endless winter, after all. But June marks a period of calm as the midsummer draws near. Occasional biting winds are the only disturbances to that calm. Other than that, it’s just damn freezing. Even with the midsummer upon the world and the still weather — the world is frigid.
The cold often bites at one’s lungs, and maybe that’s all you think it is at first. Each breath is like ice, hard to catch, and you feel like you’re suffocating sometimes. Overexertion seems to make it worse, whether you’re hiking up a particularly difficult piece of terrain or carrying a heavy load.
Interlopers will need to stop to rest often, and even then it feels like you still can’t quite get your breath back. This breathlessness will slowly get worse over time, until it’s almost unbearable.
Until it ends up nosediving into something more horrifying. One day, it’s the worst it’s ever been. It feels like you’re drowning. Your breaths are shallow and quick. Your vision blurs and warps, a shimmer of dull prismatic at the corners of your eyes. The world grows smaller around you, your hearing growing dim and distorted. You cough and splutter, gasping for air that you cannot seem to breathe in.
Panic sets in. You are suffocating, and if something isn’t done quickly enough, you will die.
But there’s a strange pull in you, too. A need. A person. You get a sensation of them, something about them. Their hair colour, their voice, their smile. Maybe it’s someone you know, maybe it’s a complete stranger, but something in you pulls you towards them.
As the world closes in on you, everything zeros in on that person. They can help. Hopefully you have enough time to reach them, hopefully you can find them. Maybe they’re searching for you too, in the exact same predicament — unable to breathe and trying to find that person to help.
Reaching that person and touching them will finally allow you to breathe. Like the air is clear, and breaths are painless again. It’s like an instant balm, and slowly the world grows back again — vision and hearing restored. You don’t know why, but this person, whoever they are — has given you your breath back.
You’re spared from the affliction, for a short time. Soon enough, it will return, and you’ll need to find that person again. Or just keep them close for a little while.
FAQs
1. Arrival threads can be treated as game canon.
2. Items characters have brought from home can be found either strewn around them when they awaken, or in the community hall — as if someone left them out for them to collect. Methuselah will not know how they got there, and will be quite bemused by the happenings.
3. Reminder that all characters are now depowered upon arrival. They can choose not to notice it at first, or can immediately sense something is different about them.
4. If asked any personal questions, Methuselah will smile and say "Oh, you don't want to know about an old man like me. But I have lived all over in these parts for all my life." He will be more concerned with trying to help Newcomers, and is genuinely concerned for them and their well-being. Other Interlopers will say much of the same — there's little to know about him.
5. More information about Milton can be found here.
1. Characters can be affected multiple times by the vapours.
1. The length of time Interlopers are 'stuck' together to combat the Suffocation Risk affliction is player choice. It could be a couple of days or even weeks — with the affliction itself ending by the end of the month.
2. Both Interlopers can be suffering from Suffocation Risk, or just one.
3. Interlopers who do not reach the person in time will die. They could potentially be revived through CPR, however — provided they are found quick enough.
no subject
Tim tries to think of ways to remove himself from the Darkwalker. Fails. But anyway,]
One of the guys has a wolfdog. Last year, that dog found himself a girlfriend. And now this is Laelaps.
[Who isn't a dog; she can smell the strange man just fine from where she is. She's interested in watching, her head held low. Tim feels the weight of his hopes crushed, knowing they were silly to begin with. He'd hoped... that Damian's dog would somehow recognize Dick. But it wouldn't make sense. With a nod and a voice meant for privacy, not quite mournful, but serious, Tim says,] I actually didn't know her name. Laelaps is just what I call her. Sometimes 'Lily'.
[Maybe it's shame creeping on his voice. The color of the confidence that he undeniably fucked up is gray, apparently, or so says his aura.] She was Robin's.
Hood got himself a puppy from that same litter. You'll see Bitewing later. I don't know where he's at exactly. [With Bruce. The traitor.]
no subject
I've got a dog at home. Temporarily. ( which. tim had just been - ) You were just watching after her, actually.
( so he knows she's in good hands, even if he's here currently and not there to make sure everything turns out alright. tim's plenty capable, as is babs. but okay, back to - moving. they need to keep doing that, because he's pretty sure his toes are starting to freeze and dick still needs those. )
She'll warm up to me eventually. Probably. ( lily, he means. but he figures that's obvious enough. ) Back to the special abilities bit. Who's Enola, how do they give us them, and - the Darkwalker? Can't imagine why someone out to get rid of us would give anyone extra abilities.
no subject
The aura that's lived on him for weeks, like everything that's important to Tim Drake, doesn't fade or ebb into nothingness. No, it just-- leaves him. It doesn't come back. Won't come back.
He hardly has the time to miss it.]
Enola is the Aurora. Sometimes the dreams you get will clue you in to your new capabilities. When I got mine, the Darkwalker ate her. And I think I could kill you if I hold on to you long enough. Or the wrong way. I don't know. I haven't- [gone that far.
Yet.]
no subject
( the interruption is quick. it's not defensive, as in he's concerned about the potential of tim actually killing him. no, it's the opposite: tim's likely worried over the possibility of it happening, but dick knows it just would not. he's not that kind of kid. sure, dick believes tim would go a little far for the people he loved if he thought it would help, if it'd make a difference, but that doesn't include killing.
it also brings in the additional issue of, apparently tim's ability is dangerous enough to harm people. what good is that for him then? )
What can yours do?
no subject
[The interruption to the interruption is just as decisive, cut of the same cloth. Then Tim works the stubborn set of his jaw; the first buildings are coming into view.
He can't be seen with Nightwing, not with all of the years of familiarity peeled back for anyone to see if they look their way.] Hey--
I've never been anyone but Tim, here. You need to change. I can get you some better stuff later.
[du Lac would be asleep, right? Tim ponders, then nods to the General Store.
Then slips from Nightwing's hold. It feels like sawing a leg off.]
There's outfits there. Can you make it? I can meet you at the Community Center. That big building. I'll answer all of your questions there. I promise.
no subject
but he's steadfast in pushing his own view that tim wouldn't regardless. because he wouldn't. he's not that kind of kid; dangerously clever, yes, but he knows the limitations they're not meant to cross.
it's why the look dick throws him doesn't leave any room for doubt, before he's - pulling himself upright and holding his own weight. he's fine. using tim as a crutch was more for tim than for himself. )
Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks for the hand. Meet you in 20?
no subject
[Still, Tim hangs back long enough to observe, like the fly on the wall that he only wishes he could have been. With the initial shock worn off, Tim tells himself it's so he can better assess Nightwing's state. Laelaps stretches besides him and Tim lays a grounding hand on the top of her head.
But it's suspicious to be looking out for someone Tim Drake does not know, isn't it?
Inside the Center, Tim's head swims with fatigue and emotion and the noise of other people, more confused and with their lives more upended than his. Tim weasels his way into the belly of the kitchen. There's coffee here. Diluted as all hell and barely worth the effort. But it'll be something warm for...
The wolfdog sniffs at what's in his hands. (Lily doesn't know what the smell of this strange treat is.) By the main hall, Tim holds on to that paper cup and does what he's always done best. Half-dead on his feet, he looks to the doors and waits for a familiar face. ]
no subject
so he goes into the store. doesn't strip out of his suit, but leaves it on under layers he piles on top of it; the gloves do get removed, pocketed so he can put on ones that are a little less tight over hands while leaving himself with the freedom to remove them once they're inside the community center. tim wasn't wrong in there being a lack of clothing that fits him well, but it's not particularly surprising: dick is all wiry muscle, wide shoulders and thin hips that don't match up with the standard every day build most people have, because most people don't spend their nights doing way too much cardio while flipping across sky scrapers. given how much muscle tim's lost, dick assumes he'll need to keep an eye on his own food intake and adjust his workout routine to suit their new location - he's planning longterm already, given clearly it'll be necessary.
but he shows up at the community center, all bundled up and significantly less cold than he'd been before, with layered jackets that definitely don't match but did anyone expect dick to try to color-coordinate? there's someone else approaching when dick does, so he offers a friendly hello as he pushes the door open, looking as lost as dick grayson should be because - well. he wasn't the one who'd gotten a short and concerning debrief. )