methuselah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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singillppl2023-08-10 12:13 am
singmod) wrote in singillppl2023-08-10 12:13 am
Entry tags:
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
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.
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.
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.
no subject
How are you there and there?
( Not even Barbie is good enough to be in two places at once.
Unfortunately for the siren, Ken's got a singular mind of devotion, even if Barbie's trying to build some (healthy) distance between them. Barbie looks cold and sad and that's just not going to cut it. Whatever pull he had from the siren is severed in an instant as he starts to unzip his parka - it's fine, he has at least three sweaters on underneath - to wrap around Barbie. )
no subject
[ Honestly, Barbie doesn't even have a chance to finish her thought before it seems that (to her relief) Ken snaps out of whatever trance he'd just been under. And truthfully, she's concentrating so hard on making sure Ken doesn't do something stupidly dangerous like fall into the ice or slide closer to the beautiful woman that whatever effect she'd had on Barbie seems to dissipate too.
And now it's just the sudden warmth of a thick, down coat being slipped over her shoulders as Ken chivalrously offers her his parka. She pulls it closer around her and can't help but notice that it smells like him. Which, you know, is strange in and of itself because they never really had a smell back in Barbieland. It was all just ... plastic and perfect.
Through chattering teeth, she starts to speak as she studies him. ]
What were you doing out here anyway?
no subject
Oh! I saw a bunny.
( His face lights up. He is delighted to share that with Barbie, because if anyone is going to appreciate the cuteness of a bunny hippity-hopping around, well, it's her. Sparing a glance behind him, Ken sees that the mysterious singing Barbie is gone, and for some reason that makes him feel uneasy. )
What are you doing here? Gosh, it's great you're here. You'll know what to do.
no subject
... which then leads her to remember, again, that this place is terrifying and so cold, and they aren't plastic anymore, which means every human feeling of the cold is now felt by them.
Without thinking, she loops her arm with Ken's, to make sure he doesn't wander off (and she's also still thinking of that mysterious singing woman and how eerie it is that she'd simply up and disappeared somewhere) and tugs him back towards the town — and civilization. ]
I heard singing, and then I heard you. Or — well, someone calling my name. But first thing's first: we're getting out of this cold.
no subject
There's a cabin over there.
( He hasn't had a chance to go inside yet, but it's better than being outside, and it's a little closer than the town proper. But if Barbie thinks they should go to town then they should definitely go to town. They could go to his house! Now that he's swept a bit it's not so bad. )
( warning: mild spoilers )
[ She isn't even sure why ... it's like this dreaded little feeling at the back of her mind sending off tiny warning signals. She's never felt that in Barbieland; she barely even felt it during her brief stint into the Real World. But that could have been because for all intents and purposes, she was still a doll.
Now that she's really truly human, it comes with a whole bunch of truly human emotions. Some of them are good, some of them are great actually; but some of them ...
She exhales. ]
How did you even get here? Shouldn't you be in Barbieland?
(the spoiler train continues)
Now? It's easy to focus on Barbie, that's his basic nature, but it doesn't fill up his entire brain anymore and that's where everything else starts to creep in.
Maybe it's just the lack of good sunlight bumming him out. )
I don't know. I just ... Was here. I ate soup! And I drank tea but that was awful, my tongue still hurts, and then I bit my tongue trying to eat some meat.
( In short, Ken has not been having a great time. But he always has a good day when Barbie notices him, that probably won't ever change. )
How did you get here?
no subject
[ Ah, yes, it's all coming back to her in creepy shades of darkness that have never plagued her thoughts before.
’You are the Interloper. You are not part of nature’s design,’ it had said. And it was not a nice voice despite how ... commanding it sounded. It certainly wasn't the kind of thing that President Barbie would ever say, and it left her feeling a little shaken for how strangely it seemed to hit home. ]
Did you hear a voice?
[ Please, please say you also heard a voice, Ken. ]
no subject
( He says it like he'd forgotten about it, which, in truth, it had. Except now she's reminded him of it and he frowns, a deep down-turn of the corners of his mouth which is remarkable considering how frozen his face is feeling. )
... What's an inter...thingie?
( It probably doesn't matter.
What matters is walking into the cabin, which is as cold as everything else, but at least the walls keep the window out. Ken's teeth are starting to chatter a bit. He shuffles around so he can wiggle a bit into the parka as well, arms circling around Barbie so he can try and capture some of the warmth from the heavy down. )
Sorry. Sorry, this is just for a second, I promise.
( He swears he's not trying to get fresh! He just can't really feel his arms or hands at the moment. )
no subject
[ It's a quiet little squeak that emits from her lips when his hands snake through the opening of her parka and wind around her middle, not just because his hands are so cold he can feel it through the thin material of her sweater, but because the gesture is far more intimate than she thinks they've ever indulged in. And even if they'd done anything in the past (which they haven't), it's different when you're plastic.
This feels ... well, it has feeling.
And she's absolutely thinking far too much about it — thank you, sudden ability to overthink every single thought! — so she lets out a shaky breath and resists the urge to shove him away from her. ]
Better?
no subject
After a couple moments he can flex his fingers again and he pulls away, ready to look for another jacket or maybe they can try to light a fire to sit in front of for ten minutes. He's been trying to practice doing that in his Totally Regular Casa House. )
Thanks.
( Okay, maybe he's thinking about it a little now, and his cheeks feel strangely hot. Hot right now is good, though. )
Do you think it's super weird that everyone just left all this stuff everywhere?
no subject
It doesn't escape her that the moment Ken pulls back, she feels the chill from where his hands and arms had once been, but all of that is clearly because this is a series of new experiences for her.
It was so warm in California, and she misses it. ]
Yeah. It makes me wonder where everyone went ... or why. And that man, the one in the Hall, wasn't much help answering questions.
no subject
This is why I need you. You always have the good ideas.
( His tone is a fine line between praising Barbie and talking down on himself. Self-improvement is a long road, okay?
He gathers up some wood in his arms to toss inside the wood burning stove, because maybe he's not good at the thinking but he can do heavy lifting. )
Anyway, I'd leave too if it was this cold.
no subject
But his gathering the logs of wood prompts her to start looking around for matches or something to start the fire, and maybe while she's snooping around, for sweaters or blankets or both. ]
Do you think it was always like this? Or maybe it used to be more like ... like Barbieland?
no subject
Barbieland? Seriously?
( He chucks the logs into the stove then holds out his arms, gesturing at the interior of the cabin and, by proxy, the outside and beyond. )
Does any of this look half as excellent as Barbieland? I don't think so.
no subject
You're right.
[ Who is she kidding? This place could never be like Barbieland. Nothing in the whole real world could ever be anything like Barbieland.
Barbieland is perfect. It's pink. It's a place just for Barbie. And Ken. And Alan. (And the other Barbies and Midge and Teresa and Stacy. ]
I have no other frame of reference, aside from California in the real world and this place is also nothing like that.
no subject
It doesn't really matter. The point is that there's nothing about this place that's even remotely familiar except for Barbie. He's very, very glad for it.
Having learned from the fireplace in his claimed home, Ken looks for something to light the fire with. He finds some very long matches. It takes him a few embarrassingly awkward tries before he gets one lit, but he manages to light some of the singed paper inside the stove which starts to catch on the pieces of wood.
Firewood: Zero. Ken: One.
He makes a sweeping arm gesture to show off his good work, then he's taking Barbie by the arms to draw her over to warm up. )
We're totally gonna be okay. We're together, right?