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singillppl2023-12-06 12:21 am
singmod) wrote in singillppl2023-12-06 12:21 am
Entry tags:
December 2023 Test Drive Meme
DECEMBER 2023 TDM
PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: A new 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 — not to mention the fact they are not the first to come here.
PROMPT TWO — MISTY FALLS CAVE: The Interlopers go out in search of a hidden cave in the mountains found by Methuselah, which may still contain the hidden stash of a doomsday prepper. However, they get a little more than they bargained for when they venture inside.
PROMPT THREE — SERPENT'S BREATH: Interlopers investigate the mysterious cause of whatever is killing and poisoning the wildlife and vegetation of the area — and discover a supernatural creature is behind it.
ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST
WHEN: Mid-Decmber.
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 a long time. The fire is cold, the dishes in the sink are pretty 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.
It’s possible you may come across someone here. Another fellow Interloper, 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. Civilisation…?
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 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.
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.
“Ah, even more, still. Just as I thought.” he muses. “I wonder if this is perhaps the new status quo. I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. You are not the only one, the lights are changing things. They bring more of you every so often. 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, 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 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 and coffee, along with soup and stew and trays of charred deer and rabbit meats, plus grilled fish. There's also things like instant mashed potatoes, and tinned vegetables. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast, although newcomers will note from others who have been here some time that this particular feast is less bountiful this time.
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.
He will encourage newcomers to get warm and eat, and when they are ready to — they can explore the time and find one of the many empty homes to call their own. He will not speak much, but perhaps you might be able to get some answers from those fellow arrivals who’ve been in this place for some time now.
However, he will speak of something important, and will gladly share with others: “I have been looking for something for you all. There was once a townsfolk I knew of: Matthew. A suspicious, paranoid old miner who was interested in Prepping. He often spoke of the world coming to an end and strived to survive it. He often spoke of a cache hidden in the mountains, where he collected things of value. I have found the place, a hidden cave, but I am unable to get through, myself.”
… Well, he is an old man, after all.
“There are signs outside, so it is promising it is still intact. Perhaps the cache is still there. It might provide something useful for your growing numbers.”
MISTY FALLS CAVE
WHEN: Mid-month, onwards.
WHERE: Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: booby traps; claustrophobic situations; potential injury/maiming; potential hyperthermic situations; exploration horror;
Methuselah gives directions to those willing to check out the lead for the old prepper cache. Following the river up from Milton Basin will lead to rugged, difficult pathways up towards Misty Falls — a waterfall, the river source itself. Most of the river is completely frozen with the freezing temperatures, but it is not completely so the closer to the source you go. Misty Falls is certainly idyllic, or it would be perhaps on a fine summer’s day — good for a nice hike. But the place looks desolate in the eternal winter cursing the Northern Territories.
The half-frozen waterfall is a din of sound, but the water itself is incredibly fresh and cooling for those hot and tired from the hike up. Those paying attention might notice a small space between the water and rock, big enough to squeeze through to get behind the waterfall itself. In the small space, the entrance to a small cave can be found. There are faded handmade signs, all in the same hand, reading ‘DANGER KEEP OUT’ and it isn’t too far of a stretch to wonder if perhaps this might be the secret stash of the old miner that Methuselah spoke of.
Venturing into the cave will not be an easy task. It seems the old miner was keen to keep any trespassers out, and most of this comes down to the cave itself. The walls of the cave quickly narrow, with only enough space to walk in single file. Jutting stone will easily make those stumble and trip. Occasionally the cave’s passage becomes narrower, meaning one might have to stoop or even crawl to carry on through. Here and there, the uneven floor dips, and your feet will find themselves in shin-deep frigid water. It’s slow-going, even if the actual passage itself isn’t incredibly long.
But perhaps the worst of all is the pressing darkness. A darkness so black even with lanterns switched off, one’s eyes cannot adjust to it. It is smothering, pressing. The air is stale and damp, you feel small — and the cave itself still presses in on you. The miner also kept a few tricks up his sleeve in order to keep out intruders. There are dead-ends, making it easy to get lost. Trip wires are hidden in the darkness, causing small man-made cave-ins to fall upon unsuspecting heads.
It might be safer, saner to give up and turn back. But persevering will see the cave opening up once more, this time widening into a room. The place is fashioned into some crude shelter. There is furniture, lanterns to be lit.
With more light, the miner’s stash is revealed: the painstaking, time-costing work of a paranoid old recluse. Crates of non-perishable foods, MREs, and bottled water. Medicines and basic medical supplies, flares and tools.
A perfect supply of survival goods, ripe for the taking.
SERPENT'S BREATH
WHEN: Throughout the month.
WHERE: The entirety of the Milton area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of dead animals; malevolent creature; snakes/serpents; poison/airborne toxins; potential poisonings; potential burn injuries; potential (temporary) blinding.
It’s noticed in different ways: perhaps a trail of dead animals stands before you, each one with no particular injury other than what appears to be burned hides and flesh — it is as if the wildlife simply dropped dead, for the most part. Perhaps you notice huge, tunnel-like grooves in the deepest parts of the snow, a few feet in width — as if something long and thick had made its way through to clear a path. More worryingly for some, they might notice trails of rot: destroyed trees, decaying plant life, as if the very earth itself has been scorched in the wake of something passing through, leaving nothing but destruction and devastation.
Something is destroying the flora and fauna of the world. There seems to be no pattern, simply the random trails all over the place. There appears to be no other tracks, other than the long, smooth tunnel-like pathways. Whatever it is, it must be stopped. Resources are so precious in this world, if the beast is allowed to continue then all who live here will soon starve due to lack of animals to hunt and plants to gather.
Following the tunnels is a sure-way to hunt the beast down, although these paths will lead far from town. It is best to go prepared. But soon enough, you may come across the slumbering beast, curled up on the snow or coiled underneath some jutting space of stone along the mountains. You’ll hear and smell it before you see it: the long grumbling snores as it sleeps, and the putrid stench of rot. Everything in you tells you to flee, much like when an animal senses something toxic, or poisoning.
You press on, finally stumbling across the beast: a long, serpent-like dragon, with tremendous horns and fangs, coloured with muted grey scales and huge, glowing, flamed eyes.
The element of surprise will work in your favour to try and kill the beast, but it will give up a good fight. It will take several rounds of fights with it before it will finally be taken down permanently. It moves quickly, with scales like steel. Its eyes and mouth are its weakest spots, as is the soft underbelly of its body — fire will work well on harming this beast, especially with a well aimed shot into its mouth.
Its open mouth is where it holds its most powerful weapon. Not the fangs, no. The very reason why the air smells of rot, why the wildlife lay dead, why the earth decays at your feet: its breath. The beast’s breath is highly toxic, it will burn the skin of those it comes into contact with. Breathing in the fumes will poison those who breathe it in, and will cause a weakening, sickly illness. The breath may even temporarily blind.
These injuries are not fatal, and will heal with time and the basic medical attention available in the world. Victims will require rest for at least a week, depending on how severe the blast of the serpent’s breath. But killing the best will ensure its havoc is brought to an end.
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. Tools found would be basic survival/camping tools one might expect: knives, hand axes, rope, handsaws, torches, batteries, etc.
1. The Stoor Worm, or Mester Stoor Worm, was a gigantic evil sea serpent of Orcadian folklore, capable of contaminating plants and destroying animals and humans with its putrid breath. Assipattle, the youngest son of a local farmer, defeated the creature by flinging still-burning peat into its mouth. As it died its teeth fell out to become the islands of Orkney, Shetland and the Faroes, and its body became Iceland.
2. It is possible the harvest the beast once it is killed, particularly for its fangs and skin. The skin/scales will provide ample protection to try to use it for armouring themselves. The fangs would provide useful for crafting knives or weapons.
3. It is... technically possible to eat the meat of the beast. Care should be taken in butchering, however. And it is not advised to eat the head.
Fiddleford McGucket | Gravity Falls | Will match format!
A. Arrival; in the Wilderness
Something is wrong. That is, a lot of things have been wrong lately, but something is more wrong than he was strictly expecting it to be. This is not the first time he's suddenly come back to consciousness flat on his back with no recollection of how he ended up there, but generally he finds himself looking up at the ceiling of his messy study or the stone ceiling of the Society's halls. Above him right now there's only branches and cold sky. He blinks several times and the branches don't resolve into a more familiar view, which must mean they're real, which is a little alarming.
He sits up and takes in the rest of his surroundings: snow, trees. Cold. Last he remembers it was barely starting to feel like Fall. How much time did he lose? The snow crunches as he stands, sticks to the fabric of the deep red robes he's wearing. They're not really thick enough to be much protection from the cold but at least they've kept the damp of the snow from sinking all the way through to his suit jacket and shirt. He can't have been out long, then. His hand instinctively goes to his side where the Memory Gun is tucked into his jacket, feeling for the familiar weight of it, and he's pleased to find it's still there. Okay. That's something. The smart thing would be to retrace his steps, but there don't seem to be any footprints in the snow leading up to the indentation where he just was.
Hm. That's... unusual. He shakes his head, pulls his hood down a little more firmly, points his feet away from the depression in the snow, and starts walking on the theory that if he just goes far enough in any direction he'll find something. Eventually he's rewarded with a road, and that's bolstering. A road's got to go somewhere. He's not hard to spot out here: bright red stands out pretty stark against white snow and gray trees. If he sees another person his approach will be cautious but not threatening: an uncertain wave, a questioning hello?. In one hand he holds a broken branch, the only thing that was really available to arm himself with. It's better than nothing. Don't sneak up on him or you're liable to get a sharp smack with it as a greeting; this guy is jumpy.
B. Methuselah's Feast
He doesn't get less jumpy after arriving in town. If anything he gets more jumpy, because this very clearly is not Gravity Falls, Oregon, and he's never heard of a Milton in the general geographical vicinity. He's never lost so much that he genuinely doesn't know at least kind of where he is after. And yet nobody here seems to think it's unusual-- or, rather, it's not something unusual that is unique to him. This happens a lot. They have cots set up.
It's when he finds his own belongings set out as though waiting for him that the other shoe finally drops, and the fact that the old man can't tell him how they got there does nothing for his nerves.
"What do you mean you don't know?" There is a scratchy note of panic to his voice and one of his feet is tapping rapidly against the floor. The more he speaks the more his voice raises in volume and pitch. "You have a picture of my wife and son and you don't know how you got it? Have you been watching us? What is this?"
Of course he won't get answers. So eventually, defeated, he retires to one of the cots, now wrapped in a blanket and numbly clutching a cup of coffee. On the cot beside him is the photo, a somewhat-battered looking banjo and a cube puzzle that looks very much like but is Disney approved legally distinct from a Rubik's cube. It's unsolved. He's focused on other things right now. He's lost... what... potentially months of time? What could have happened that was so bad he had to get rid of so much? He remembers bright light, and then darkness, and he doesn't know why but it's grabbed hold of his brainstem and is twisting with a familiarity he really doesn't like.
"At least they have coffee," he says, halfway to himself and halfway to whoever might be within earshot. Find a silver lining. Find something good to hold onto or you'll tear yourself to pieces. It'll work for at least a little bit.
C. Wildcard
[Hit me up at
b — methuselah's feast
Bewilderment is common, the uneasy quiet that comes with trying to warm up, eat something and realign to the new set of circumstances is too. What isn't is the building shriek that comes in the direction of Methuselah and an Interloper she doesn't recognise. She's very fond of the old man, and it's enough to make her gently hurry over.
You have a picture of my wife and son and you don't know how you got it? Have you been watching us? What is this?
"Excuse me, sir?" her tone is mild, hands raised slightly in a disarming gesture. "Please. Mr Methuselah's telling the truth, he doesn't know. Some of our things just turn up with us. He really doesn't know."
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"But that's... it doesn't make sense."
The only other explanation, the way he sees it, would be that he left this stuff here and then forgot doing it-- but the way they're all reacting to him makes it seem as though this is his first time in Milton from their perspective too. Which means either that it really is his first time in Milton, or whatever happened was bad enough for him to ditch some very important personal belongings and wipe everyone before skipping town.
"You have to understand how it's concerning."
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Kate opts to try and very gently direct the man away from Methuselah, to let him continue with what he's doing. The old man is nothing but sympathetic. He doesn't take the outburst against him to heart.
"But Mr. Methuselah's a friend." she continues, "Whatever it is that's done all of this, it's not him who's doing it. He's just trying to help in what's a really bad situation for us."
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On the other hand, would he like the answer if he knew it? That's something to chew on. Probably not. He closes his eyes very hard, breathes out through his nose, and resolves not to think himself in circles about it right now. He can think himself in circles about it later, he'll have time.
"So it's some kind of... something's doing it." That's a thread to follow. He thinks back to the voice and the light and decides he does not like thinking back to the voice and the light. "On purpose?"
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A
As such she's not making it much of a secret that she's approaching but she does manage to raise her hands up sheepishly in more of a placating way than surrender.
"Woah there, buddy. No one needs to get clubbed with a stick around here. Stickbugged maybe, but it's hard to share memes when there's no internet." See? She's friendly enough.
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"Strictly speaking I don't want to hit anyone with a stick. Just figured it might be an eventuality, with how today's gone so far."
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"It's been that rough, huh? I get that. Well how about we relax for a little? You can maybe tell me what's going on and I can do my best to help out.
...It might be a little easier if I ask if you just woke up here in the snow? Because that might narrow things down for me."
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Except don't, because that would be a whole other can of too many worms. He's already got so many metaphorical worms to wrangle. He latches onto the implication that she knows what's going on -- or at least, she knows more than he does, and that's something. He lowers the stick the rest of the way.
"... Yeah. Yes. Happens often, does it?"
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methuselah's feast
She's aware that someone sits nearby her, but not any details about them. Not until he speaks up and she glances at him.
"Take what we can get, right?" She looks and sounds tired. She is, but mostly she's soul-weary. Everything is happening a ton, she hates it, thanks. "I hope they have board games too."
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None of that is because of this situation. That's just how he was already. Only the red in his cheeks and nose because of the prolonged cold is strictly new.
"Being real honest with you I don't know if I could take the stress of Monopoly on top of the rest of it right now."
A
And this is the thanks she gets.
Clang.
Durable as she is, that smack still rattles her optics and forces her to stumble back. Partly out of surprise.
"Ow! Holy crap, dude!"
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This is so much to deal with on top of everything he was already dealing with. He says the first thing that pops into his head, which is also probably the worst thing to say.
"You felt that?"
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She - yes, it is a she, a young woman from the sounds of it - rubs the approximation of her forehead with a hand. Fingers run through the dark purple locks of hair(?) matted by snow. Her face largely featureless, save for a mouth and two large groups of pixels shifting like eyes. Because they were.
"What's your deal, human? Shouldn't you be in, like, a hazard suit or something, and not those... admittedly pretty rad robes?"
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Methuselah's Feast (cw: mention of parasitic entity, blood)
...Is it here with him now? It's difficult to tell. He can no longer feel any mental connection to the entity, as though something has been severed. Yet his body feels sick, stomach coiling as waves of nausea perpetually ripple through him. He's thrown up blood more than once on the way here. His invader must still be with him, perhaps having to rest in the safety and warmth of his stomach, trying to heal....
He's found items of his own, and each one has been a wave of horror and ache that's threatened to debilitate him. The cosmonaut keeps them tucked into the clothing he wears, issued to him from the facility — a thin green track suit over a simple white tee-shirt, and white trainer shoes on his feet. He's accepted a thin blanket from someone and keeps it wrapped around his body now, mostly to hide the pool of blood staining the front of his shirt.
He hears the rise of a voice; someone's upset, questioning the elderly man, and the flare of panic in it makes Konstantin's skin prickle with discomfort. If he lets himself, he could fall to panic, too. He mustn't, must keep himself calm and focused, must find a phone, contact his mother. Then go fetch his son from the orphanage before the military gets to the boy first. But what if this stranger's upset alarms something, draws attention—?
He's approaching the other man, lifting a hand to his arm, carefully brushing it with his fingertips — making sure to approach so that he's in the stranger's line of vision and won't just creep up on him.
"Come with me." It's not forceful, more pleading, and he lowers his voice. "It's all right. I have questions, too."
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The one of voice does, at least, manage to get through the lather he's working himself up into. Someone else thinks this is weird. Someone else has questions. He's not crazy. He is reacting to this with the appropriate amount of concern, actually. That's bolstering.
"Come with you where?" is what he says, because that feels like the most pertinent question. He doesn't trust that easy. He'll take an ally in this very unsettling situation, but an ally made out of convenience can still turn on you if it's convenient.
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"Somewhere no one else can hear." He mutters even more quietly, eyes falling onto the old man who calls himself "Methuselah" and lingering there. The man gives him a faint smile and turns way, non-confrontational and not trying to regain his audience with the stranger, letting him turn away just as soon as Konstantin interrupted. On the surface, he seems like only a kind elderly man.
But of course he is a part of this. Konstantin has no ounce of trust in anything he has to say, any of his assurances.
He quirks a brow towards a distant corner where no one else is, probably because it's far from the warmth of the fire, but he's willing to risk some comfort for security. "Over there. We can talk. Will you come?"
A
He freezes when he sees the man in cultist robes. They didn't look like the ones the priests in Prehevil had worn, but the purpose seemed clear enough to him. Levi takes a deep breath and slowly reaches for the gun slung across his back. Maybe this guy wasn't like the cultists back in his world, but he didn't really want to take that chance unprepared.
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He sees the boy a split second before he sees the gun, and does a sort of abortive half step forward two step back maneuver as the two things register one after the other. He raises the hand holding the stick a little, like that's going to do anything practical for him in a situation with a rifle involved.
"Hey, now. I'm not looking for trouble."
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"What god do you serve?"
Feast
Once he seems to have calmed some, she approaches him where he's sitting.
“Something of mine was being held here as well,” she says by way of greeting. “Did anyone tell you anything?”
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Which is maybe an uncharitable way of framing it, but when he's stressed he can get uncharitable, and it sure did feel like that's what they said. He just doesn't buy that there's no real explanation. Turning up in a place because of some kind of weird unexplained scientific phenomenon: bizarre, highly improbable, but technically possible. His stuff not only coming along with him but showing up in a completely different place, set out waiting like it was put there on purpose by someone who was expecting him? Suspect.
"Still not sure they're telling the whole truth about it."
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Who knows what they can even do about that.
“This bow, the last I knew, my sister had it. If something - or someone - hurt Thora…”
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He sees the banjo.
And that alone might not be enough to make him do more than double-take, even in a situation like this. But sitting next to that banjo is a painfully familiar looking, unsolved, multi-colored puzzled cube, and when he sees that Ford knows exactly what it is. Fiddleford is facing away from him, but Ford doesn't need to see his face to know who he is.
"Fiddleford...?"
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He freezes, shoulders going visibly rigid even under the several layers of fabric. Ford's here. It has to be him, his voice is too distinct for it to be anyone else. How is Ford here but there's no one else he recognizes? Was Ford following him? He thought he made it pretty clear he was off the project... whatever it was. Bad. It was bad.
He takes one hand off the coffee cup and presses it to his temple like he's trying to get in ahead of the headache he figures he's got to look forward to.
"You too, huh?" is what he actually says, because despite the alarm bells ringing in his brain he doesn't want to have a fight in the middle of a public meeting space. What's important is sussing out whether Ford is in any way responsible for this. If he is, well, that explains it. If he's not... that's extra worrying.