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

[dr_unconscious]

Clayton's demeanor changes ever so slightly when Levi turns around and he's able to get a better look at him - a little wince creasing his eyes, some hesitation before he answers. He'd seen the rifle on his back and assumed a lightly-built adult, but seeing a teenager on the other side of it is alarming. Is it right of him to ask a kid to help in this situation? Will he even be capable? He looks guarded, but not put-off by the obviously suffering and bleeding patient under Clayton's hands, so maybe he has an answer to that second question. The first, though, still leaves him unsettled.

He tries not to let it hold him back for too long; that wouldn't help the patient or Levi, who has offered to help and is probably looking at Clayton like the authority he ought to be. "'Preciate it," he says, forcing a wan smile. "Need you to press down, here, both hands. Don't let up while I work on 'em. That something you can do?"

[solitarysoul]

Hey he's 18, that's totally an adult

He kneels down by the patient and applies pressure as asked. "How hard?"

He's done this before, but it's been awhile.

[dr_unconscious]

Okay, much more comfortable with this situation than Clayton had been expecting, noted. There's another brief, yet somewhat awkward pause as he comes to terms with this, mentally accepts it for what it is, and shifts out of Lewin's way.

"Just as hard as I am," he directs. Still not letting go himself - with how much blood this person's lost already, Clayton isn't taking any risks. "Don't have to go harder, you might hurt 'em worse. We're just trying to reduce the bleeding while I close 'em up. You got it?"

[solitarysoul]

He nods and pushes down as ordered. He's good at following orders, and has clearly slipped into a mode where its expected of him. At least until the doctor (this guy was a doctor, right?) said the patient was okay or beyond saving.

[dr_unconscious]

Clayton at least waits until Levi is looking away before he passes him a concerned frown. No reaction at all. He doesn't seem shell-shocked - too compliant and steady for that. His willingness to follow instructions is automatic to the point of feeling drilled. Military, maybe? He's young, but not so young that he couldn't enlist. Would explain the rifle, too.

This reasoning doesn't make Clayton feel any better about this situation, but it does change his tone slightly. Orders are given succinctly while his reassurances to the suffering patient remain soft and apologetic. After about twenty minutes, what used to be a significant gut wound has been sewn closed, and Clayton has used a precious bit of water and a fresh towel to clean it. The rest of the water is gently fed to the semi-conscious patient on the cot.

His next patient is the one crouched next to him.

"Think that's the last one for now in critical," Clayton remarks, wiping his hands off for the fourth or fifth time on a now red-spattered cloth tucked partway in his pocket. "You mind helping me do a round to check on all of 'em? You're a real good helper and my eyes're gettin' tired. Could use an extra set, make sure I don't miss anything."

Slight medical dismemberment mention

[solitarysoul]

"...uh, sure. I don't really know much about medicine but I can apply pressure again or hold things."

Well, he knew somethings about medicine. But they weren't the pleasant things...like where to cut off a limb to prevent infection from spreading.

[dr_unconscious]

"Well," Clayton offers Levi a slight, lopsided grin before he hauls himself to his feet, "Just proved that that's plenty of help on its own, ain't it? Here--got another thing."

He holds out the sewing kit.

"You mind threading some needles while we walk?" he asks. "Be nice to have 'em ready next time someone needs 'em."

[solitarysoul]

I don't--[He's never threaded a needle before...but how hard could it be?] --yeah, I guess so.

[He takes the sewing kit, takes out a needle and attempts to thread it...the eye is much smaller than he expected. It takes a few tries and his full concentration at the end before he gets it. But he gets it eventually, then hurries to catch up with Clayton if thr other man has moved on.]

((idk about you but it always takes me ages to thread a needle right <<;))

[dr_unconscious]

[Clayton quirks an eyebrow at Levi's almost protest, but doesn't stop him from taking it and trying anyway. He does keep his pace slow, though, giving his companion plenty of time to figure out what he's doing without leaving him behind. No one else looks like they're in especially bad shape - they can take their time going from one end of the room to the other.]

Kinda tricky, eh? [He's figured out what Levi was trying to tell him by now: I don't know how to thread a needle. Context tells him enough.] I'm a bit spoilt - they come pre-threaded in the kits at the hospital. Lot of folks would be in trouble if they had to wait on me to do it myself.

[solitarysoul]

"Pre-threaded would be a lot better," he grumbles, sticking the treaded needle back in the kit and grabbing another one to try. "How many do you need?"

[dr_unconscious]

Clayton lets out a good-natured chuckle, which helps to mask the way his eyebrows are knitting together as he thinks about the logistics of his answer. Too many, he wants to say. Too many people are hurt and more will inevitably show up.

"As many as you'll stand 'fore you get tired of it," he says instead, flashing a lopsided smile. Then, before he risks having Levi inquire further on the details, Clayton quickly follows up: "--Kinda rushed you into all this, yeah? Sorry 'bout that. Don't think I caught your name?"

[solitarysoul]

He is already tired of it, but he'll do a few more. He never gets much quicker at it, though.

"Its fine. I don't mind." There are much worse things he could be asked to do. "I'm Levi."

[dr_unconscious]

"Doctor Clayton Epps," Clayton answers. The 'Doctor' part of that equation is probably obvious by now, but he imagines someone from a military background - as he's decided Levi likely is - would prefer a formal rank and title to associate with him. "Nice to meet you, Levi. I appreciate your help with all this."

Continuing to watch Levi out of the corner of his eye struggle with the needle and thread provides some mild amusement. It also reassures Clayton that he's thoroughly preoccupied, which is hopefully distracting him from the state of the first few patients they visit; they're all in the same place, huddled around a small bath of water warmed from the fire as they slowly thaw out various frostbitten fingers and toes. It's the only one they can afford to have with how precious fresh, potable water is, up until they can sterilize more snowmelt anyway. Clayton checks on each of them, reassures the ones that are in a significant amount of pain that they're getting better, and investigates the water to make sure that it hasn't become too disgusting and is still warm enough to be effective.

He waits until they're walking away from the group before addressing Levi directly again. "Glad you're on my side here," Clayton says casually. "Not just 'cause you're helping me with my rounds, I mean. That rifle you've got would make me think twice 'bout bothering you, if I'd found you outside."

[solitarysoul]

He grunts in acknowledgment to the introduction, only sort of paying attention to Clayton. Most of his attention was split between the needles and the patients.

He's never really seen frostbite up close before. In the trenches it was usually on toes. Snow and cold water seeping into old boots, slowly killing the wearer. He was lucky enough to never have that problem.

He finishes threading a third needle and looks down at his sneakers. They weren't made for snow. He's glad this doctor's around, more so because he's not at all sure how these people look different than normal. He didn't have any idea how frostbite looked before it got bad.

As the move away he starts another needle. "...good. It's empty, but if it still wards off attacks its doing something."

[dr_unconscious]

Clayton can't help chuckling a little at that answer, not just because it's somewhat unexpected, but also because he's relieved. The idea of this kid wandering around with a loaded rifle was unnerving him a bit.

"Absolutely," Clayton agrees with a firm nod. "You know how to use it?"

[solitarysoul]

He just give Clayton a Look, clearly unimpressed with the question.

"Its my service rifle. Of course I know how to use it."

Rather well, even.

with the slight retcon that the gun definitely IS loaded

[dr_unconscious]

Ah, right - the military thing. Clayton's smile turns into more of a wince as his theory is more or less directly confirmed. He supposes this is preferable to a teenager walking around with a loaded gun that he doesn't know how to use, but that's a small comfort, given the circumstances.

"Hope you won't need to," Clayton murmurs. Still, he's making a concerted effort to stay positive, and forces himself to ask a moment later, "--Who d'ya serve with?"

[solitarysoul]

"...me too."

He doesn't miss the look on Clayton's but doesn't say anything about it. He doesn't really want to talk about it. "...The Eastern Union."

[dr_unconscious]

Clayton's heart breaks, just a little bit, but he manages to keep a straight face. Levi clearly doesn't want to dwell on it and Clayton doesn't want to cause him any unnecessary pain. It is now his singular goal to make sure this kid doesn't suffer on his watch - not while he can help it.

Thankfully, there's an easy opening for him to change the subject. "...Don't think I've heard of that one," Clayton says, genuinely curious. They come to a stop next to someone dozing fitfully on a pile of blankets; Clayton carefully lowers himself into a squat next to them and rests a hand on the base of their neck, checking their temperature. He frowns, stands back up. "Where's it at?"

[solitarysoul]

"Really?" That surprises him.
Didn't everyone know about the Eastern Union, the Brehmens and the war? But them maybe this guy was from Vinland or something. That place was supposed to be terrible, but people still lived there.

"Uh, Europa."

[dr_unconscious]

It takes a second, squinting pensively at the far wall, for Clayton to register how he recognizes that name. Europa, as in...the moon? No, that can't be right. Surely Levi must be joking with him, so Clayton offers him a nervous chuckle, even though he's not sure what the punchline should be.

But then he looks back and sees the completely earnest look on Levi's face, and he starts to have second thoughts.

"I'm, ah..." Clayton rubs at the back of his neck. "...Not real familiar with that one, either? Sorry. What continent's Europa on? Europe?"

[solitarysoul]

"Uh..." Europe? Names must have gotten muddled over time and distance. Or was there just another continent with that name? "Europa is the continent. I think."

Geography was never a focus in his studies and the orphanage. And the only use the army had for it was to tell who was friend and who was foe.

[dr_unconscious]

Clayton turns his dubious squint on Levi now. He looks just as confused as Clayton feels, which is understandable, given that they apparently can't agree on what continents exist. The temptation to brush this whole conversation off as a prank delivered by the most straight-laced teenager in the world is strong, but not the route Clayton takes; too much other bizarre stuff has happened to him today to assume that anything is just a joke.

"...Alright." He stops, sighs, puts a hand in front of his mouth to stroke at his beard. Opens his mouth. Sighs again. "How--How 'bout where I'm from? North America, United States. Ring any bells?"

[solitarysoul]

Levi studies the other man, trying to figure out if he's being serious or not. He has no idea, he wasn't good with people anyway.

He just shakes his head.

[dr_unconscious]

Clayton's doing his own counter-assessment and is rapidly becoming even more confused by it. Levi is obviously telling the truth - hell, he must think he's the crazy one here.

"...Huh." And Clayton goes silent for a few moments, just to think. This Eastern Empire must be incredibly isolated if he doesn't know what the US is. They're under the Global Trade Protectorate, after all. In theory, every sovereign entity on the planet was. He supposes the Eastern Empire could be some tiny European country he's never heard of, and conversely, the Eastern Empire could conduct its business behind very tightly sealed doors to control what information makes it to their people, but...

Clayton gives up with a shake of his head. "Well, I guess it don't matter too much," he shrugs, continuing towards the front door to the community center. "We're here now."