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singillppl2025-12-04 08:00 pm
singmod) wrote in singillppl2025-12-04 08:00 pm
Entry tags:
December 2025 Test Drive Meme
DECEMBER 2025 TDM
A FINAL APP ROUND IN FEBRUARY WILL BE POSTED FOR RETURNING PLAYERS / CURRENT PLAYERS ONLY.
PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: The penultimate group of arrivals find themselves lost in the frozen wilds and vulnerable to the dangers of nature. With luck, they make it to the town of Milton, and to a friendly face offering food, warmth and shelter — and the current inhabitants, their fellow survivors.
PROMPT TWO — JUST A SONG: A being arrives at the doors of Interlopers, causing mischief — and rewarding Interlopers for being such good sports.
PROMPT THREE — THE ICE CAVES: Interlopers find themselves as unwelcome guests in a labyrinth of ice caves.
ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST
WHEN: Mid-month.
WHERE: Milton, Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potential animal attacks, potential injuries, potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk.
'You are the Interloper. You are not part of nature’s design.'
It’s the last thing you hear. A dark, deep voice. Impossibly ancient. You feel afraid. Maybe you’re dreaming, maybe you’re wide awake. You saw the lights, and then your world went dark. But you hear it in the blackness, you won’t forget those words.
These are the words of the Darkwalker, you’ll soon come to find. This ancient creature that sneers at you, who does not want you here. Your fellow Interlopers will fill you in on this being soon enough.
You awaken. You are not where you were before. It’s different for everyone, there doesn’t seem to be much of a pattern in where you find yourself. You may open your eyes to find yourself in a cold, dim and dank cabin. The air is stale, dust hangs in the rays of weak sunlight that shine through the tiny windows. Someone lived here once, but they aren’t to be found. This place has been ransacked, abandoned long ago. It is quiet. The wood creaks around you.
Or perhaps you may awaken to find yourself shivering in the yawning maw of a cave, the freezing stone below you. Or maybe you’re unfortunate enough to sit up to find yourself lying in the snow, in the middle of the wilderness. Snow lies thick around you. It’s freezing out. You haven’t felt a cold like this before in your entire life. Cruel and biting. You have no idea where you are, and what’s worse — you are completely alone.
The sun is bright, enclosed in light fog. It is a strange kind of twilight.
You may feel different, too. Any powers or magics you may have feel... absent. Disconnected. Things that may not have affected you previously now do. Something in you has changed.
You know you can’t stay where you are. You’ll need to move, try to work out where you are and how you came to be here. So you walk, head out into the unknown, in hope of finding a trail or a road. You’ll find one soon enough. It’s here you may find someone else in the same boat as yourself, equally freezing and confused. You’ll both need to keep going. It won’t be easy. You hear howls of wolves around you, and the terrain is difficult: slips and falls are likely. You’re completely vulnerable out here in the open.
Or it’s possible you may come across someone else here. Someone who looks far better prepared to deal with the freezing cold and frozen landscape, out hunting or gathering. They’ll likely offer help and get you into town. However, for the unlucky ones who don’t come across anyone, you’ll carry on until you see it: the lazy trail of smoke rising in the air. Fire. Not just one, but several. Civilization...?
Follow it, and soon enough the way you’ve taken will certainly become a path or road. Unfolding before you in the mountainous forests, you’ll see the most welcome of sights: a small mining town tucked up in the valley. Battered, rusted road signs will direct to “MILTON, POP. 947”. You’re almost there, you keep going, and it looks like other people have had the same idea as you. In fact, you’ll hear the muffled sounds of life. People! In the town!
As you head into the outskirts and then further into town, you’ll find it’s a little easier to walk but the cold has gripped you hard. You’ll find the buildings, both shops and homes, some are dark and lifeless, some of them are boarded up, some of them are occupied. People are going about their business, or stood watching from their tiny porches of their small, timber homes. For a town this big, there doesn’t seem to be many people. Several dozen at most, but no more.
Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building from which the biggest of the smoke trail rises: a school-house of sorts, or some kind of community hall. Perhaps both. You’ll find more and more people all drawn to this place, each and every one of them in the same position as yourself (and your companion, if you’ve found one). Some are in worse states than others: some are bloodied, nursing bite wounds or cuts; others might have some other kind of injury sustained in the journey here from falls. Others may look as if they could faint from the cold at any second.
The door opens, and you’re greeted by the gnarled, wizened face of an elderly man, dressed in thick furs. He has a kind face. He smiles warmly, and with pity, ushering you in with haste.
“Here we are, once again. This place continues to draw more souls in.” he nods gravely. “But I wonder for how much longer you turn up in this town. I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. This world has been long since changed by the lights. And more change is still to come, I feel. Come. Mother Nature has not been kind to you, but there are plenty here to help.”
The room is dim, lit only by natural daylight through the windows. A roaring fire sits at one end of the huge hall. It crackles, bright and cheerful... and warm. Even as big as this place is, the room is pleasantly warm. You’ll also find basic cots set up down one side of the hall, and while it seems there's a few people already living here, there's enough space for those in need of them. There's places to rest for a moment and get your bearings, or just trying to recover from the cold. Down the other side are tables and chairs, and long tables laden with food, drinks and bottled water similar to one might find at a soup kitchen. Once again, Methuselah offers a feast, aided by some of the other Interlopers.
There are canisters with hot herbal teas, mostly. But some coffee can be found. There’s also soup and stew and trays of charred deer and rabbit meats, plus some grilled fish. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast for those who have battled the cold to come here.
Methuselah will continue to busy himself, still; there is plenty to do. He will fetch blankets, tend to wounds, serve food and drinks — aided by a handful of others in the Hall. Your fellow survivors, but those who have been here for some time now. He does not have much time to talk. More and more people seem to be coming in from the cold. He will not stop to sit and rest until everyone is seen to, taking up a place by the fire to gaze silently into its flames.
He will encourage newcomers to get warm and eat, and when they are ready to — they can explore the town and find one of the many empty homes to call their own. He will not speak much, but gesture to your fellow survivors. They will have better answers than him.
JUST A SONG
WHEN: The month of December.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural creatures; folklore-inspired creatures; skeletal beings (horses); pranks/mischief.
Sounds of revelry have been heard through the streets of Milton: music, singing, bells. You can hear them from your cabin, or even as you venture through the town. It really sounds like someone’s having a pretty good time. It’s actually kind of nice to hear it, all things considered. Interlopers often find themselves with little to be cheerful about with the long night, bitter cold and difficult daily life.
Going out to find the source of such festivities will come up with nothing, however, which is both disappointing and a little unnerving. Until one night you hear the noise right at your door, and there’s the sudden boom of a knock.
Opening the door will lead to silence, but instead stands a tall being that towers higher than the door frame. Slow to move, a skull moves into view and you find yourself staring at a horse skull, adorned with ribbons, bells and flowers, its ears flicking in curiosity. Its eyes glow white in the dark. The remainder of the being’s body is covered by a huge white shroud and while it appears as a rather frightening creature — it makes no move to attack you. Instead, it stands calmly, relaxed.
Its teeth chatter for a moment, and it bursts into song: slow and cheerful:
I am come, dear friend, why won’t you let me in?
If I trespass, tell me then, why that I must go.
If I trespass, state in song, you should tell me so.’
You must tell the creature, in song, why they cannot come in. It’s… almost like a game—?
So you try, singing to the creature why it cannot enter your home. But the creature is clever, and can come up with plenty of ways in which it can argue for coming inside an Interloper’s home — returning its arguments in song. It starts off a back and forth, a debate in song. Eventually, you’ll fail to come up with reasons against the creature gaining entry and fail to argue back a reply. The creature jaw chatters cheerfully and ducks — charging forwards and passes right through you. As you turn to look back inside, you’ll see nothing there — the creature is nowhere to be seen.
However, you’ll soon find yourself falling victim to a… well, it’s almost a harmless prank if anything:
Altered Speech: Interlopers find themselves talking backwards, no matter how hard they try to not. Even Interlopers with Aurora Call will find their ‘mental voice’ speaking backwards, too.
Animal Ears: Interlopers find themselves with some kind of animal ears. While they certainly don’t get the benefits of said animal’s hearing — it does make wearing hats a bit of a pain.
Confetti: Everywhere you go, rainbow-coloured confetti will fall from your head. It can either be a constant stream, like a little raincloud above your head. Or maybe it comes out when you sneeze, or cough, or even just speak.
They See You: There’s googly eyes. All shapes and sizes. Everywhere. On the furniture. On your toothbrush. On your soup can. On you. No one knows where they come from, and if you take them away — they will come back.
Plastic Wrap: When you try to go through a door, you’ll be hit in the face with plastic wrap. It won’t be every door, though. And you’ll never know if a door’s been booby-trapped with it. But any door might be one that gets you.
They keep finding a random item in every drawer
These shenanigans will keep up for several days. However, on the morning of the day after the effects have passed, Interlopers will awaken to find everything back to normal. They’ll also find at the foot of their bed a small parcel. Inside, they’ll find a sweet treat of their choice: maybe a cake or candy they like the most, something they can’t otherwise get in the Northern Territories.
Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.
THE ICE CAVES
WHEN: The month of December.
WHERE: Everywhere…?
CONTENT WARNINGS: animal attacks / wolf attacks; supernatural animals; potential injuries, potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk.
You wake up cold, to the sound of a great beast breathing restlessly. The sound echoes, and it feels far away and incredibly close at the same time. The air is humid, which makes the cold even more biting and the ground feels wet beneath you. As you sit up, you realise why: there are patches of ice that make up the floor, which now melt beneath your warm body. The light is dim, but you can see well enough with the soft blue glow that encompasses the area around you. As you get up to examine this glow, you realise it’s greeted by bioluminescent fungi which creep around the walls, floor and ceiling.
It’s an ice cave, and you find yourself not alone. Another is here with you.
Taking a few moments to recollect yourselves and take in your surroundings, you decide to traverse the caves in hopes of finding an exit. What meets you is a labyrinth of tunnels and atriums: all covered in the very same bioluminescent fungi and ice. The ground is slippery to walk on, and care should be taken. Every so often, the walls tremble and quake — not enough to cause any kind of cave-in, but enough to keep you on your toes.
But it’s not just you two in this cave. Not just the mysterious beast’s troubled breathing either. Something else is here, too — something far more familiar.
And soon you’ll find out: wolves.
You’ll find three here. Their eyes glowing green in the dim light. The first wolf is distinguishable by its more fluffy coat, their scruff poofs up a great deal more — tinged with white. Its approach is more softer, hoping to catch Interlopers unaware in the caves.
The second wolf is recognised by its scruffy coat, looking mangier than the others — missing chunks of it in places. This wolf is far more noisy compared to the others and tends to run more, barrelling into the Interlopers headfirst.
The third wolf is bigger than the other two, but its behaviour could only be described as being… sketchy. This wolf is far more silent, and likes to hide and stalk Interlopers from afar — even waiting for them to pass before it sneaks up from behind.
The wolves can be fought, they can even be killed — but they won’t stay down for long. Eventually, even if you’re sure they’re dead, they’ll get back up again and resume the chase of you through the caves. It’s best to keep moving and find a way out of this maze of a cave system.
You’ll find the opening soon enough, and stepping through the cave’s mouth will bring you back into a random location: you could find yourself outside a random cave in the Milton wilds, suddenly entering a long-abandonned cabin in Lakeside, or stepping inside the Frozen Angler in Silverpoint (to a confused-looking Molly). There seems to be no rhyme or reason to where you end up, and you certainly can’t go back — just hope you’re somewhere you’d like to be.
FAQs
1. Arrival threads can be treated as game canon.
2. Items characters have brought from home can be found either strewn around them when they awaken, or in the community hall — as if someone left them out for them to collect. Methuselah will not know how they got there, and will be quite bemused by the happenings.
3. Reminder that all characters are now depowered upon arrival. They can choose not to notice it at first, or can immediately sense something is different about them.
4. If asked any personal questions, Methuselah will smile and say "Oh, you don't want to know about an old man like me. But I have lived all over in these parts for all my life." He will be more concerned with trying to help Newcomers, and is genuinely concerned for them and their well-being. Other Interlopers will say much of the same — there's little to know about him.
5. More information about Milton can be found here.
1. The being is inspired heavily by a festive Welsh folk tradition Mari Lwyd, where participants would visit homes, singing and engaging in a rhyming battle of wits, known as pwnco. The Mari Lwyd is a figure of mischief and havoc, but also one of good luck to the homes they successfully win at entering.
2. The being can come to the same home multiple times, so Interlopers can be affected by multiple ‘prank’ effects.
3. Failure to sing at all will result in an automatic loss.
4. The being cannot be harmed, and attempts to hurt it will pass right through it. It will also mean an automatic loss — and the being might just leave you your WORST/LEAST FAVOURITE sweet treat instead.
1. The three wolves are a call out to the player-named unique wolves of The Long Dark who exist within internal locations: Fluffy, Scruffy and Sketchy.
2. Characters end up in the Ice Caves with whatever they happen to have on their person at the time.— if it’s typical for them to carry weapons, they’ll have this with them.
3. While the wolves will never stay dead for long, they can be killed by any means you would normally kill a wolf: bullets, knives, arrows, etc.
Altered speech ( ・ω・)
But then: life. Someone approaches. Even in the dark, trying his damnedest to not get turned around by the steady flurries that sting his eyes and cling to his eyelashes, Hawkeye cocks his head as he catches sight of the guy that's speaking in... not tongues. But close enough.
He nods. There's confidence there, even if God says there shouldn't be.
...because why shouldn't he have some fun? His ass is freezing. He deserves this much before he dies. (in Canada!)]
Well I've gotta say, sailor, that's mighty forward of you.
[One glance to the left. One glance to the right. One glance over his shoulder, for good goddamn measure.
Hawk drops his voice to a conspirational whisper.] But no. No, I don't have a wife.
shoukfjfj thank you sm for this gift
It's a bone out of place that just needs to be snapped back in, or a speck of something hard that only needs to be wiped from his eye, or a piece of clothing that simply needs adjusting. If he keeps trying, then surely this... ailment will correct itself. Right? That means that any potential person to interact with could help knock him back into the right state.
That the man is a stranger, and therefore a newcomer to this place, certainly doesn't go over Edward Little's head. He has every Interloper memorised and categorised and documented, after all. It's especially important that he reach through to this man in all the right ways, find himself back into normalcy as quickly as possible, so that he can assist him. So he's drawing up to Hawkeye very seriously and earnestly, eyes locked on as he listens, ready to take all of this with utmost care—
There's a beat of startle, because he doesn't fully grasp the implication of the words yet, eyes following those movements and leaning into that whisper, and then.....
Oh dear lord! )
Pardon beg I! Inquiring was I what isn't that— ( He gives a sound of frustration and despair, nostrils flared, visage flushed. He's been horrendously misinterpreted and he can't even explain properly.... With a clench of a fist, a rare curse comes, and at least that one word gets through correctly. )
Damn!
oh please I couldn't pass it up
Not when this bass-ackwards charade is clearly so troubling to the Brit.
The doctor composes himself effortlessly, mittens clutching at the collar of his parka as he straightens himself to impart the sage wisdom of,] You kiss your mother with that mouth? [that clearly comes with the motherly nagging edge it's meant to. Sailors sure do have their potty mouths, eh? Even shipwrecked out in God-knows-where. But Hawk has yet to feel a fist colliding with his face.
He likes this guy.
His own expression melts to something resembling stern worry. The mitten-hand holding his hood over his head now gestures for him to be followed as he turns toward one of the sorry cabins.] Come on, come on. Come in to my office. I'm a doctor. We'll figure you out. Though I gotta warn ya I'm a little far from home and still getting my sea-legs, ya know? Crabapple Cove's winters at least have the Rieves' sweet potato pies to tide you over, but this place? Yeesh. I'm Hawkeye. [And: the grace of returning some control to the other man, if only he answers with a single word:]
What's your name?
no subject
This is— a particular frustration and you know what, he's just going to have to unleash a curse word about it!! He's breathing a bit heavily in the aftermath, all that frustration tight and breathless in his chest, tipping one of his severe eyebrows upwards at the other man's question. He finds himself taken aback in a way that leaves him unsure how to respond (this isn't out of the usual for him, not here with this population — he might be reminded of Holland March's tendency to say things that leave him staggering and then before he can find the proper words, the man's gone and started saying something else. Yep, that's familiar.)
He stares as he listens to all of that, eyes hard — not unfriendly, not unwelcoming, just intense — and then blinks. Oh. Oh, that is something he can... respond to. Seemingly. Though he finds this to be an unexpectedly difficult task; after all, he usually introduces himself with a plethora of words attached, titles, roles, this and this and that. Now he literally can't. )
Edward. ( That's the easiest way to say who he is, right? Not Lieutenant or even Little. It feels unnaturally casual, and he gives a heaving sigh that puffs his nostrils out and releases a cloud of warm fog into the chill, like some large farm animal sighing. He nods, body moving to follow the other man, the doctor, and scrunches up his nose before trying some more. )
You thank. ( .....God........ So he really is going to be reduced to one-word replies.... It's so impolite! He hates it! )
Grateful.
cw for some hypothetical eye squick
Yeah, yeah. You're tongue-tied, Edward. [It's always easier to lead with what all parties can see, or in this case hear, is out of place. The wonderful human machine: so tough, so fragile. Hawkeye is pulling off his overcoat, and the moment he's shed it he's gesturing to Ed to sit, sit, go on. He'll go poke at the humble little stove. Keep them and its fire alive a little while longer. (Korean winters were nothing to scoff at either.)]
So tell me... [wait, no, don't. Hawkeye stops himself inelegantly, lips thin in consideration. He won't sit until Ed does. And here where his eyeballs aren't at immediate risk of crystallizing and shattering clean off their sockets, Hawkeye is taking stock. How does this man carry himself, how does he move? Two legs, two arms, two eyes, one nose. And what's worse! The man before him is wearing a uniform and has so much military might coiled into his being that it makes Hawkeye's dogtags itch.
He's not in some front line, is he? Did he swap one Hell for another-? (And would it really be that out of place in his God forsaken life if he did?)] Hmm. Okay. So either talk slowly for me, or just nod or shake your head if you don't feel like talking. Has this been going on for long, Edward?
no subject
Then again, Little has encountered others from hundreds of years into his future, with all sorts of mind-boggling capability and advancement in their worlds, so... maybe the stranger truly can offer something, here. At the very least, he's trying to help, and Little is all too appreciative simply to have another in his vicinity. To be alone in such a situation is a daunting thought.
(He's frightened, up under all the frustration. He's terrified. He's seen men slowly lose their minds and bodies, crumble up and fall apart in every manner possible, and there's a persistent fear of such a concept. Of... losing himself. ....More of himself than has already been lost.)
He sits with a sweep of greatcoat, not removing any of his own clothing despite now being in the warmth of indoors, right down to his gloved hands staying gloved. He rubs his fingers anxiously together as he listens, then— opens his mouth, thinks better of it, and shakes his head. Not for long. Barely within the hour. )
Today. ( He clarifies with one word, safe. Then, hoping to convey an origin for this madness— )
Supernatural.