August 2023 Test Drive Meme

[singmod]

AUGUST 2023 TDM

PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: A group of newcomers 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.

PROMPT TWO — HOPE NOBODY NEEDS THIS ANYMORE: Once recovered from their journey, newcomers are free to explore the town of Milton for supplies and find any signs of the townsfolk.

PROMPT THREE — THE SIREN OF MILTON BASIN: A mysterious woman haunts the frozen lake of the Milton Basin, trying to lure newcomers to their deaths.

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

WHEN: Day One.
WHERE: Milton, Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potential animal attacks, potential injuries, potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk.

’You are the Interloper. You are not part of nature’s design.’

It’s the last thing you hear. A dark, deep voice. Impossibly ancient. You feel afraid. Maybe you’re dreaming, maybe you’re wide awake. You saw the lights, and then your world went dark. But you hear it in the blackness, you won’t forget those words.

You awaken. You are not where you were before. It’s different for everyone, there doesn’t seem to be much of a pattern in where you find yourself. You may open your eyes to find yourself in a cold, dim and dank cabin. The air is stale, dust hangs in the rays of weak sunlight that shine through the tiny windows. Someone lived here once, but they aren’t to be found. You look around, it seems like no one has been here in several days, maybe longer. The fire is cold, the dishes in the sink are a little mouldy. It is quiet. The wood creaks around you. Or perhaps you may awaken to find yourself shivering in the yawning maw of a cave, the freezing stone below you. Or maybe you’re unfortunate enough to sit up to find yourself lying in the snow, in the middle of the wilderness. Snow lies thick around you. It’s freezing out. You haven’t felt a cold like this before in your entire life. Cruel and biting. You have no idea where you are, and what’s worse — you are completely alone.

You may feel different, too. Any powers or magics you may have feel... absent. Disconnected. Things that may not have affected you previously now do. Something in you has changed.

You know you can’t stay where you are. You’ll need to move, try to work out where you are and how you came to be here. So you walk, head out into the unknown, in hope of finding a trail or a road. You’ll find one soon enough. It’s here you may find someone else in the same boat as yourself, equally freezing and confused. You’ll both need to keep going. It won’t be easy. You hear howls of wolves around you, and the terrain is difficult: slips and falls are likely. You’re completely vulnerable out here in the open.

But it won’t be long until you see it: the lazy trail of smoke rising in the air. Fire.

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. As you head into the outskirts and 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, are dark and lifeless, some of them are boarded up. Other than those heading in the same direction, towards the smoke, you won’t find any townsfolk coming to greet you, or even looking at you from behind curtains. … Where is everyone?

Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building from which the smoke 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.

“It seems like a great deal of you have come.” he muses finally. “I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. Please, warm yourselves. Eat. Get your bearings. Mother Nature has not been kind to you.”

The room is dim, lit mostly by the weak 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, places to rest for a moment and get your bearings, or just trying to recover from the cold or any injuries. Down the other side are tables and chairs, and long, foldable tables laden with food, drinks and bottled water similar to one might find at a soup kitchen.

There are canisters with hot herbal teas and coffee, along with soup and stew and trays of charred moose, deer and rabbit meats, instant mashed potatoes, and tinned vegetables. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast. The old man has been busy. And Methuselah will continue to busy himself, still; there is plenty to do. He will fetch blankets, tend to wounds, serve food and drinks. He does not have much time to talk. More and more people seem to be coming in from the cold. He will not stop to sit and rest until everyone is seen to, taking up a place by the fire to gaze silently into its flames. He is troubled, thoughtful.

If you ask him where you are, he will simply respond: “This is Milton, of the Northern Territories.”

If you ask how you came to be here, he will shake his head: “Something has changed. The sky, it was… full of light. The Flare. I felt you coming, a great arrival. But I cannot say for certain how, or why you are here.”

He is regretful, genuinely so. He wishes he had more answers for you, but he does not. Instead he will simply insist you rest, get warm and eat. There is plenty to go around. Eventually, when you feel well enough, Methuselah will gesture to the door: “When you are ready and able, explore the town. Many left, others could not make it out. I have found no one but the dead. They will have no use of the place now, perhaps you might in the meantime.”

HOPE NOBODY NEEDS THIS ANYMORE

WHEN: First couple of weeks since arrival.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: frozen dead bodies, unexplained deaths, suicide, murder.

Other than Methuselah in the Hall, the town of Milton is void of life. While not a particularly large town, there’s a few stores and even a gas station. Life here is rustic. Function over form. Homes are simple but sturdy and warm, it’s a rugged place and one can easily deduce that the folk living here led simple, self-sufficient lives.

Commercial buildings and stores of note include a bank and post office, a hunting/fishing supply store, a grocery store, and a clothing store. There is even a church just on the outskirts of town. The buildings are ripe for picking, with most of them still with the doors unlocked, including the residential buildings. Others are locked, but can be broken into easily enough. A few are even trickier, with some of them boarded up or with entrances blocked. In terms of contents, a third of the residential buildings seem to be almost empty, as if the owners moved out long ago. There might still be things left behind of use: old, warm clothes good for the wintery weather, tools and cooking utensils — but little in terms of food. Even if the former residents move some time ago, they didn’t completely empty their homes.


Most of the homes in Milton seem to be left as if the owner stepped out only a short while ago, and with very little disturbance. Some houses, however, seem to be abandoned in a hurry, with a mess of items strewn about in some last-minute dash to grab essentials: keys, identification, treasured personal items, supplies for a quick exit. Cupboards are typically filled with an abundance of canned goods, and some chilled goods might have survived in the cold weather within the fridge-freezers, but it might be a gamble if one wants to try and eat them. Any and all electronics within homes: televisions, computers, mobile-phones — although dated, will all appear cracked and damaged, and will not function or turn out at all. The same will go for any vehicles around the town: there is no hope of starting any of them.

Diaries and journals kept by the former residents may remark on a change in the weather, with the cold and harsh climate becoming more hostile as of late. Others remark strange lights in the skies, dating several weeks or so ago, strange noises in the air, issues with power and electrical items. Some make mentions of changes to the wildlife, with wolves coming close to the town even when they had never done so before. One or two mention problems on the Mainland, with increasing difficulty of reaching out to loved ones who don’t live in the Northern Territories, or deliveries being unable to arrive. The growing trend is that something odd and terrible has been happening, although no one can truly explain what, and the problems have been growing increasingly worse and worse up to the final entries. You might note that the actual years and dates might not line up with your own: the current year given in these entries is 2014.

The newcomers are free to take over these homes, if they wish. No one appears to be stopping them, and even Methuselah seems to shrug about moving in. And as he’d mentioned, he has found no one but the dead: and plenty of them can be found.

Bodies of the town’s former residence can be found scattered over the town. In homes, in stores, out in the snow. They appear still relatively fresh, although it may be hard to tell if it’s from the cold or if it’s from very little time passing. Most appear to have died from cold exposure, some appear to have simply dropped dead on the spot. Others may be found with a gun in hand. Some, worryingly, appear to have perished by another’s hand. You won’t find the entirety of the town’s population, but there’ll be at least several dozen. Men, women, children.

Methuselah seems to have begun laying the dead to rest, but there’s too many for one man to do. Maybe you can work out what to do with them, try to bury them in their backyards, or try to take them to the churchyard.

THE SIREN OF MILTON BASIN

WHEN: Until the next Aurora.
WHERE: Milton Basin.
CONTENT WARNINGS: mental manipulation, malevolent mythical creatures, falling through ice, attempted drowning/possible successful drowning, potential character death.


Those who venture further south of the town will find themselves traversing the steep, winding paths down towards the Milton Basin. The way down is treacherous, but if enough care is taken you should be able to make it down in one piece. The water is just about completely frozen over down here, thick and sturdy enough to walk over for the most part. Within the Basin there’s more wildlife to be found: deer and rabbit are plenty. And there’s even plenty of foragables, too.

Out on the water are two small ice-fishing cabins, enough to fit one or two people inside comfortably, which hold a few forgotten supplies to try out some ice-fishing if you want to see if anything bites. Both even hold little log burners to keep warm. An old hunter’s shack can be found along the water’s edge, for those not quite brave enough to travel out onto the ice, to take shelter in for when the weather gets a little too difficult, with an old log burner still working within it.

But it’s calm down here, for the most part. Peaceful even. It’s an excellent place for fishing and hunting, and a little more sheltered from the freezing winds.

Until you hear the voice. Something soft and feminine, echoing across the ice. The Basin helps to amplify the sound, and for a long time you can’t quite be sure of where exactly it’s coming from. It’s singing, she is singing. Something old, in a language you can’t quite understand. Maybe it’s not even a language at all, but simply melodic vocalizations. It’s... beautiful, you’ve never heard anything like it before in your life.

And then you see her: a woman standing upon the frozen waters of the Basin. You realise she’s probably the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen in your life, even if you can’t quite even begin to describe her. She appears different to everyone who beholds her, some one might see her hair is long and dark, others might see her with neat red curls. Some swear her skin is dark and rich, that looks almost plum when the light hits it just so, others claim it to be cool-toned that glistens like sunlight on snow. Whatever someone might find aesthetically pleasing is how she’ll appear, and even then to describe her to others will bring you at a loss for words. And she’s singing… to you, for you.

You’re compelled to go to her, although you can’t explain why. You’re drawn to approach her, to hear her better, see her better. Your feet carry you onto the ice, out into the midst of the Basin. You ignore the calls of everyone and anyone around you, fixated on the woman before you. She smiles when you’re close enough, beckons you a little closer.

… Then everything changes. Without warning, the woman leaps for you, her face contorting into something hideous, mouth opening to scream to reveal rows upon rows of tiny, needle-like teeth. She collides with you, and the force (paired with the slippery ice below you) is enough to send you off your feet. As you fall back, the ice cracks beneath you with an almighty sound, plunging you into the frigid depths below.

The woman fights to put you beneath the water’s surface, those needle-like teeth bared like some ferocious beast. She can be fought off easily enough, but she might just drown you before you’re able to. If you’re lucky, someone might be able to help pull you out. Tools or weapons made of iron or silver are especially harmful to her.

Once you’re pulled from the water, getting somewhere warm will be the utmost priority — otherwise the cold will kill you quicker than the woman would. The woman, you’ll find, will have vanished, and the ice where you’d fallen will have restored itself, as if it had never been broken at all.

FAQs

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

1. 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.

2. 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.

3. 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.

4. If asked how he knew that the Newcomers were arriving, he concedes that although it is a strange thing to know, it is much like how one knows a storm is coming.

HOPE NOBODY NEEDS THIS ANYMORE

1. Characters are welcome to take up residency in any of the homes of Milton. Methuselah will strongly advise characters to leave a huge, dilapidated house — known as Milton House — well alone, due to extensive fire damage.

2. More information about Milton can be found here.

THE SIREN OF MILTON BASIN

1. Characters with hearing impairments will not be susceptible to the Siren's song, or may only be somewhat susceptible depending, but may be entranced to a degree by looking at the Siren. However, this will be far easier to snap out of.

2. The Siren cannot be killed, only fought off. She will disappear for a length of time to recover before she attempts to lure her next victim.

Comments

takashi shirogane | voltron: legendary defender

[earthshine]

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH’S FEAST
i: feasting

[ for the town being, supposedly, abandoned, with only one true resident left, there is an abundance of food. it’d odd enough that shiro hesitates. not before grabbing a plate and filling it with food, though. no, no. he has various types of game meat on his plate, as well as a small mountain of mashed potatoes. soup is in front of him, too. it’s there, though, sitting at a table and staring at everything laid out that his brain outpaces the whims of his stomach.

he’s not alone at the table. there’s only so much space in the hall, especially when it comes to seating. spoon in hand and frown upon his face, he speaks to no one in particular. ]

Does anyone else find it odd that Methuselah just happened to have all of this ready?

[ this would have taken hours to prepare. and even then, how would he have even known to make it all? that the town would be overflowing with newcomers? ]

ii: trading

[ food and clothing are the ticket items to be… uh, shopping for. he keeps everything methuselah hands off to him in terms of clothing, but he makes sure to pick up any other items he finds while exploring the town. namely? the abandoned houses. he’s pretty set on that front, with many pieces to layer from pants to shirts to coats to socks to gloves to –

he’d really like that beanie you’re wearing, though. ]

What would it take for you to trade me that?

[ cue a clarifying gesture. ]

HOPE NOBODY NEEDS THIS ANYMORE
iii: housing

[ well. anything is an improvement from imprisonment by an alien species intent on conquering the universe. this is his cue to say his luck is turning around, right? it is, he will concede, but he does wish his luck could have taken him somewhere with sunshine. heat. not piles of snow.

it is nice, he supposes, to be surrounded by organic things, though. from the cold innards of a space cruiser to the brick and mortar of an empty city, shiro is overdue for a reintroduction with living, breathing, flourishing nature.

… he’s pretty sure that tree is dead, though.

standing outside a small framed cottage, shiro drags his gaze from the bare tree kitty-corner to the porch, turning his attention to the sound of snow crunching. ]

This yours?

[ he inclines his head toward the house. methuselah said the houses were up for grabs, but with everyone grabbling for shelter, it’s a guessing game of what is even available. ]

iv. trapping

[ shiro needs help.

clearly, he isn’t going to trap any animals in the midst of town, especially in the heated, bustling community hall. he’s practicing, though. he found some wire in one of the cabins and is now twisting it around, making a double loop that he then feeds the other end through to make an even bigger loop.

that’s as far as he’s gotten.

this is the easy part. constructing the snare at the basic level takes a matter of a minute or two, but figuring out where to place the snare, as well as anchor it… those are the difficult aspects of trapping. so if you come cruising by to see what he’s doing, expect a glance up and a blunt: ]

What do you know about trapping game?

v. “grave” robbing

[ shiro’s sins are many. he’s killed and pilfered weapons off his opponents before, all in hopes of securing his survival for another day. somehow, this seems worse, though. coming across a body half buried in snow, with no idea how or why this fate befell them… it hits differently to look upon them and immediately assess what can be taken from them.

survival, he reminds himself. all of this is about survival. a moral code and common decency are luxuries reserved for moments when supplies aren’t low.

the clothing shiro won’t bother with. he does draw the line somewhere. so walking by you may find him rifling through a pack for ammo. or working the pack off the body entirely. or he may be struggling to work frozen fingers free from a gun locked into place. feel free to help him or judge him; either way, it’s doubtful he’ll share. ]

WILDCARD

[ feel free to PM me with questions or ideas! i tend to use present tense and brackets, but i’m okay with us not matching if you’d like to use a different format! :D ]

arrival i

[solitarysoul]

Yes!

[Oops, that was louder than he wanted. Levi clears his throat and starts again in a softer, voice. A voice that sounds like its trying not to be overheard, probably by that weird old guy.]

There's no way he's not lying to us. Or he has some sort of...I don't know...magic. Or both.

[earthshine]

[ dude, play it cool.

shiro fights the reflex to frown, managing to maintain a more neutral expression, even as he levels the other man with a stare. he plops his spoon into his soup, but does little other than swirl it around as he scoots his chair closer to the table and hunches slightly over. he’ll be dropping his voice too. ]

so you think he has nefarious intentions?

[solitarysoul]

He has to, no one would set up something like this without a price.

[He'd been to hungry and cold to resist, though.]

Especially if he's magic, or a God. You can't trust them.

trapping.

[calcifications]

[ Once she's properly fed, clothed, and housed, she takes it upon herself to explore.

The sturdy plastics she's used to wearing are ill-suited to the weather here, and she replaced them with whatever cloth layers she can find. Most of it is jumbled together, secondhand or abandoned, and she makes for quite the sight as she treks around town: a 5'8" woman with long white hair, a double set of horns curling forward around her head, and a ridged tail that swishes behind her as she walks, all wrapped up in contrasting colored pants, scarf, coat.

It's a good thing, then, that she's never cared much about fashion or what others think of her.

The man crouched near the ground catches her interest, her footsteps slowing as she approaches. She tilts her head at the question, expression as cool as the snow that surrounds them. ]

Not much. I'm better at trapping people than wild game.

[ The downfalls of growing up in a metropolitan area rather than the countryside. An education, opportunities at numerous scientific companies, and access to some of the most advanced technology Terra had to offer are all things she could have once boasted about...but here, in this frozen land, all those things are largely worthless—not to mention out of her reach.

Even so. ]

Have you found any tracks?

[ Trapping game might not be the same as tracking game, but knowing where prey travels and prefers to loiter is an important first step. ]

[earthshine]

[ shiro still makes no visible sign of being perturbed or even interested in her very obviously not human appearance. a year ago? yes. his reception would be entirely different. but as it is, he’s an astronaut who survived a very extensive stay with alien captors. lucky him, he also got to meet – and kill – numerous other alien species. so the horns? the tail? not too odd.

what is odd?

i’m better at trapping people than wild game

– uh. excuse me? what now?

the concentrated, almost static set of his features abruptly relaxes on a hard blink and then he’s staring with plain confusion. apprehension isn’t far behind, but the reflex to answer comes first. ]

Uh – no. Not yet. I thought I’d figure out what I’m doing before trekking out there.

[ in one hand, he fiddles with the looped wire, only letting a moment’s pause fill with silence before he abruptly redirects the conversation. ]

… You trapped people?

[ you know what? he doesn’t like crouching anymore. standing to his full height, he feels a little better being the one looking down at her instead. ]

Not to… eat them, right?

[calcifications]

[ For a long handful of seconds, all she can do is stare (up) at him, uncertain if his words are meant as a joke (unlikely) or said in all seriousness. Is it because of her features, common enough in Terra but unique here? Or is he simply from a society where the hunting of people rather than animals is the norm?

What a terrible world that is, if so.

But she's not one to mince words or to let (false) assumptions stand when they can be easily corrected instead. She shakes her head once, eyelashes sweeping against her cheeks as her gaze dips downwards and her eyes close briefly. ]

I worked as the head of security for a large corporation before this.

[ Before landing in a snow-covered field with only her fists as weapons. The loss of her Arts is jarring, but not fatal; the expectation drilled into her even as a child was that anything she could ever want, she would have to fight for herself. ]

Any threats to the company needed to be contained. Sometimes that meant closing in on them first.

[ It's all stated very matter-of-factly, as if she's discussing the weather rather than the safety of human lives. ]

[earthshine]

[ oh.

oh.

forgive him. trapping animals to trapping people had him conflating the two and… well, humans being a food source wouldn’t be the strangest nugget of information he’s come across in the present or recent past. his relief is obvious, though. it’s there in the softening line of his shoulders and the slightly heavier exhale. with everything else that’s going on, at least he doesn’t have that to contend with.

or that’s what he thinks through the first words of explanation, only to develop a nagging realization that, wait, none of that actually answers his question. no? yes? he frowns, filing away the tidbits of security and the implied skill set that comes along with that position, but ultimately, he has to wonder: ]

What’d you do with these threats once they were – contained?

[ threaten them to compliance? or neutralize them to a permanent degree? shiro can’t even pretend to be above resorting to the latter. ]

[calcifications]

[ It's a perfectly reasonable follow-up to ask, and one that doesn't elicit a mometary lull of confusion or concern this time around. This is a question she's had to contend with often enough before, from both coworkers in different departments and civilians alike.

She answers him in the same way she's answered in the past, in a straightforward manner without any hesitation. ]

It depends on the severity of the threat. Anything [ and anyone ] that might pose a severe risk to onsite personnel is to be immediately neutralized using whatever means necessary.

[ Sometimes temporarily, sometimes permanently.

She says that, but there's a flicker of unease on her face once she wraps up brief explanation, a reminder of a time not that long ago when she'd gone against those orders—and when she'd realized not all orders from above were given in good intent.

Shaking that brief thought away, she spreads her hands out slightly, palms facing upwards. ]

Obviously I don't have the security or the ability to do that here, so you don't need to worry.

[ Assuming he was even worried in the first place. ]

arrival ii - trading

[bigbaddy]

[ When Shiro speaks up with that, Bigby turns his head to stare at the other - not saying anything for a moment, not replying just yet. Instead the man seems to be staring at Shiro like he's sizing him up, or appraising him in some way.

Then, without saying anything first, Bigby reaches up and grabs the beanie, just holding it out towards Shiro.

It's only then that he finally speaks up with: ]

Just keep it.

[ Apparently Bigby doesn't deem to valuable enough to actually trade for.. Though he does add: ]

Unless you happened to find some drinks or cigarettes anywhere in these houses. [ He severely doubts it though, which is why the man is adding it more like an afterthought. The beanie is still right there, held out for grabs. ]

[earthshine]

[ funnily enough, the ease in which this man gives up the beanie has shiro giving it a second – and far more critical – look over. why was that so easy? what’s wrong with it? so don’t mind shiro as he misses his cue to snatch the gift, instead merely staring at it dangle from the man’s fingers.

not so long ago, shiro used to be like that. giving. the terror of his imprisonment has left him raw and suspicious, far too jaded to be kind and generous and good…

but here, he’s reminded. and now he’s considering the lighter he has tucked into the pocket of his satchel. it’s valuable. any source of flame is in a winter landscape. learned selfishness makes him hesitate, but upon – finally – taking the beanie, a hint of humanity returns with the way he can’t help saying: ]

Might’ve seen a pack somewhere, but I didn’t think to pick it up.

[ he isn’t one for killing his lungs, okay? he has enough health problems as is. that isn’t the part to pay attention to, though. the important part is that he’s digging through his satchel and pulling out a disposable lighter, yellow in color and half-used already. ]

But here. [ that’s all the warning there is. he tosses the lighter toward him. ] If you find any, at least you won’t be stuck looking for a light.

[bigbaddy]

[ There's definitely a moment where Bigby's eyebrow can't help but rise as he watches Shiro just.. standing there, really. Not even bothering to reach out and take the beanie, despite asking for it in the first place. It has Bigby wondering what his deal is, but then Shiro does at least take it from him, allowing the man to lower his arm once more.

He kind of expects it to be done with that, so the counter offer actually comes as a surprise to him. Especially since a lighter is valuable. Considering how much time Bigby has spent in the wilderness by himself - even before this little involuntary venture - he realises the power of fire very well, even beyond just giving him half of what he needs to smoke a sigarette here. ]

.. thanks. [ He slowly says after briefly testing the lighter to make sure it still works - it does, despite its current state - and then pocketing the item. ] Guess I'll have to take a look around for them later.

[ He's quiet for a second, but as he looks over at Shiro, he speaks up again. ]

You been alright so far?

[ Maybe it's just that the other's pause before taking the beanie is still lingering in his mind. Just enough that Bigby can't help but ask that - although casually.

Wouldn't want to be accused of actually caring or anything, after all. ]