singillppl | August 2023 Test Drive Meme

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August 2023 Test Drive Meme

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

1. Arrival

[ It’s an incredibly odd feeling, being snatched back from the very brink of death. Sounds, sights, scents—they all sort of melt away into a general feeling of pleasant nothingness, and then it all comes rushing back at breakneck speed, like the drop in a rollercoaster.

He doesn’t ask why or how. The why’s don’t really matter, and how’s—well, he’s seen plenty of shit that he can’t explain in the last week alone. How doesn’t always have an explanation. It’s the where that’s a little more concerning, because Eddie remembers where he was last, and it didn’t look a thing like the snowy woods he’s found himself in right now.

Find the trailer, find the gate, his foggy mind urges him, but as struggles to upright himself from a snowdrift, it becomes abundantly clear that he’s not going anywhere. He’s injured, he’s freezing, and he’s alone. There’s blood smeared on his face, on his neck, on his hands, soaking through his shirt and freezing in the open air, and none of that bodes particularly well. ]

Shit—

[ He gasps out a haggard breath (who would have thought he’d be taking another one of those?) and looks around, searching desperately for anything that could be helpful in the slightest, but there’s nothing. Only bare trees and his own blood on the snow. There is, however, the telltale sound of snow crunching beneath someone’s feet.

Normally, his fight or flight would kick in and he’d make a run for it, but that really isn’t an option right now. It doesn’t really matter; his nerves are already frayed to threads and if he’s not going to die from his wounds, he’s going to die from frostbite. Whatever’s coming towards him could not make the situation much worse. ]

Hey—a little help here? Please?

2. Arrival, II

[ It takes some time, but someone with the skill to do so stitches and bandages him up, and he could not be more grateful. The wounds are gnarly, some of them bone-deep, and the cold only serves to make them ache all the more, but he comforts himself with the knowledge that, not only is he alive, but those scars are going to be pretty damn cool.

There had been nothing strewn about Eddie when he arrived, but in the community hall, one very special and very familiar item catches his eye almost immediately: a red and black electric guitar. He makes a mad dash for it—“dash” being used loosely here; rather, he limps in its direction as quickly as he can with someone shouting after him that he needs to sit back down before he rips his stitches. He doesn’t listen. He cradles the guitar in his arms and runs his fingers over the strings. ]

Oh, sweetheart, I never should have left you back there. What was I thinking? You fought so bravely out there, you know?

[ Yeah, just…it’s fine. Give him a moment. There’s no amp and no electricity to run an amp, but hey, that doesn’t matter. He’ll figure it out later. ]

3. Hope Nobody Needs This Anymore

[ Weeks in, Eddie’s wounds are still healing and he’s still moving slowly. Maybe he’ll always move slowly now—sort of like that time his uncle broke a leg at the plant and never moved quite the same way again. Winters were always the worst for him, and although he never said anything, Eddie could tell that the cold pained him. And this place is so cold, it may as well be locked in a permanent winter.

Milton is eerie, quiet and abandoned and frozen in time. It’s so much like the Upside Down, and it does nothing for his nerves, but exploring the houses and picking up little trinkets and tools like a magpie helps to soothe him just a little bit. The houses he’s picked through thus far have all been empty, but as he ventures into the next one and tries the cracked television set, hoping that this may be the one to turn on with the sweet, buzzing sound of static…well, there’s the corpse of an old man settled in a nearby armchair, like he fell asleep there one night and never woke again. ]

Jesus Christ!

[ Eddie scrambles backwards towards the door, but backs right into another person and sends them both tumbling backwards. Sorry, whoever you are.]

4. Wildcard

[ Whatever you like! Surprise me or grab me at

muttonchops if you want to plan something! ]

[Edward has been ransacking the houses with a kind of pragmatic determination that says he’s done something like this before: picked a place clean of everything but the bodies (and picked the bodies clean of everything on them). Right now he’s found a way inside and is stuffing what few winter clothes he can find into a scavenged bag, and is more surprised at the presence of another living person in the house than, you know. The dead body.

He’s seen dead bodies before. A lot of them he made himself. This one is…still unsettling to him, but he rallies quickly.]

If you check his pockets he might have something useful on his person.

[ Eddie has been handling things in a little more of a disorganized manner. He sees something he likes or something that might be helpful? He grabs it. There’s been a little ransacking and exploring (he’s been trying every single television set out of curiosity), but he hasn’t been looking particularly closely either. There’s a lot he’s missed.

He’s also just quite a bit more softhearted than he appears. He’s just a kid. The very sound of Edward’s voice causes him to jump, and he refuses to look in the direction of the corpse again. If he does, he’ll remember some things he’d rather forget. ]

You know, that’s probably true, but uh…I think I’ll let someone else handle that.

[Edward has no such compunctions. Looting a dead body is second nature to him, so he shrugs and strides forward to start patting the body down, looking for anything useful.

As he does so, he says:] What were you looking for in that box? [Gesturing to the broken-down television. He has never seen anything like it in his entire life.]

[ Eddie is very pointedly not watching as Edward pats the old man down. Instead, he turns aside to busy himself with drawing faces in the thick layer of dust that’s accumulated on a nearby table. It’s not necessarily the presence of death that scares him, but the fear that if he looks too closely, he’ll suddenly find the corpse arranged with the same unearthly twisted features and snapped bones that he’s seen two too many times already.

Call him traumatized, but his stomach is already turning at the very thought and he knows that if he looks again, all that soup is going to come right back up. ]

What, the television?

[ At being addressed, he spares the shortest of glances over his shoulder. ]

Just checking to see if the electricity was working. I mean, I didn’t have high expectations. I didn't have any expectations, really. Just…thought I’d give it a try.

Edited (rephrasing some stuff) 2023-08-13 22:10 (UTC)

Is that what you call it? It just looks like a box to me, and not one easily opened.

[He’s from 1735, and electricity as a concept is still all too new to him. It’s in the same realm as the Observatory—a wonder far outside of Edward’s own experience and knowledge, and a marvel to be wary of. That this boy seems to expect there to be electricity, takes its presence for granted…well, it’s a surprise to Edward, who pauses as he fishes out the contents of the corpse’s pocket.

Not much of use, he ruefully notes. It’s mostly just candies.]

Everyone in town is dead but us and the old man. [The words are blunt, but the tone is gentle.] There’s no one who can ensure that anything works around here, except us. Do you know how to repair this—electricity, so that it can work again?

Yeah, kind of gathered that.

[ He snorts ruefully and frowns down at his dust faces. A town full of dead, and somehow, he’s the one who got out alive. It’s strange to think about, and he might not believe it at all if not for the very real stitches that are holding him together.

He pauses, and the wheels seem to be turning. Sorry to use a whole lot of terminology you’re not familiar with, Edward, but… ]

Well…no, not quite, but if you find me some kind of car, I might be able to rig something up.

[ Maybe he can owe some thanks to his old man for teaching him that kind of juvenile delinquent stuff after all. ]

[ And of course, a scrawny teenager is going to be absolutely to going down like a sack of spuds when he has someone barrelled into.

Kieren is, thankfully, at least living in a bit more of an easy existence as time has gone by. He's not turned rabid without his daily dose of Neurotriptyline, for some weird, mysterious reason.

But he's very much aware of the fact he's essentially a zombie in a town full of people who don't know what he is. Thank god he's at least got contacts and cover-up mousse to hide his bare face. Having someone back up into him is Too Much into his personal space, and he's a frantic mess of limbs and shouts as he tries to untangle himself from the other boy.

(Please don't notice the lower body temperature, he begs. It's just cold, that's all.) ]

What the shit—! What is it, what's— [ Please get off him. ]

[ Listen, they’re both scrawny. Eddie is just all layers and hair and is not the worst person you could un into. But he’s frantic, and the other boy is frantic, and he’s trying to untangle himself so he can get the hell out of there, but Kieren is making it awfully hard and it’s just a mess. ]

Shit--would you just hold still?

[ If there’s something off about Kieren’s body temperature, Eddie doesn’t catch it. It is cold out there, and he’s already panicked about other things. Carefully, limb by limb, he untangles them and struggles to get off of him. ]

Jesus Christ. You scared me more than he did.

[ He gestures vaguely towards the corpse and sits back against the wall to catch his breath and check to be sure he hasn’t torn any stitches. ]

[ Listen, he's no good with people getting up close and personal. The instinct in him is to flee and get out, of course he's going to flounder. But being snapped at does make him freeze, some brief moment of looking like a deer in the headlights before the two of them finally separate and Kieren's just frozen, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But the other boy notices nothing, and he slowly recovers — pulling himself up to sit and still just reeling a little. His gazing moving into the room and capturing the sight of the body of a man slumped in a chair. ]

... Shit. [ There's a long pause before he adds: ] Well, I mean. Yeah. Dead people tend to leave you alone.

[ He is aware of the irony. It takes everything in him not to cringe. But he looks to the other boy, checking himself and his brow furrows. ]

... You alright?

They tend to, most of the time, yeah.

[ He snorts, not quite picking up on the crumb of irony Kieren leaves behind, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t find some sort of irony in that statement. After all, he was snatched back from the very precipice of death. By all accounts, he should be worse off than that guy in the armchair right now.

He doesn’t spare the corpse another glance. He just can’t. His stomach and his nerves can’t handle it, so he busies himself with making certain he’s still held together. He winces and huffs out a swear, but he’s not bleeding and his stitches seem to be in one piece. ]

Yeah, I’m kind of literally held together with dental floss right now. It’s kind of gross, really, but uh…yeah, I think I’m alright. Sorry I crushed you, by the way. Nothing personal.

Shit, I'm sorry. [ Kieren cringes a little in sympathy. ] What happened—? I heard wolves on the way in to town, which... didn't think I'd ever hear a wolf in person. [ Definitely none of those roaming about in Northern England. ] Wasn't those, was it?

[ He shakes his head, waving him off slightly. ]

It's fine. You spooked me more than anything. [ Much like just about everything does, sometimes.

His gaze turns back to the corpse. He doesn't have much of an aversion to looking at the dead, mostly with being one. And seeing a lot of them. Kieren slowly, awkwardly gets to his feet. For a brief moment he feels a bit like a twat because he should really offer a hand up to the other boy to help him up but that would involve touching him again. There's a lot of hovering before he looks at the corpse in the armchair and suddenly decides: ]

I'll get something to cover him with.

Eddie Munson | Stranger Things

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