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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.
no subject
He's been sitting there for a little while now, actually, with Goodsir showing up to the hall relatively later than most people. But it's not like he's really got a way to reliably tell time right now, especially with the whirlwind that was everything that happened the last time he saw Goodsir, and then showing up here clueless, and then having to process everything since.
It might as well have been an eternity, with how much it feels has happened.
There's another pause. Another slightly awkward one, because for a man so used to going unnoticed - part of the job description, really - it feels utterly strange to see someone reacting this much to his presence, even if he gets why it's happening in this particular case.
Maybe that's why, after mentally chewing on the words for a moment, he slowly adds: ".. You don't have to look so distressed, Mr. Goodsir."
At least he knows better than to say doctor when that seems to have caused the other psychic damage on the spot. Billy isn't blind.
no subject
"I see."
He looks away, then back again.
"I—Gibson, I am sorry," he says. "Sorry for what happened to you, and sorry that I was not more kind."
no subject
Maybe this is all some very strange moment-of-death dream after all. It'd sure explain a lot.
He can't forever leave Goodsir hanging though, so--
"I meant what I said." Though he's trying to not think about it too hard, not wanting to think about what had interrupted him in the middle of what he had been trying to tell Goodsir back home. "We were holding you against your will. You were under no obligation to be kind to any of us because of that."
You can do a bad thing and still be aware it's bad, after all. Not like Billy doesn't have a moral compass.
"It would have been stranger if you were kind under those circumstances."
no subject
Billy means well enough, he thinks. But it doesn't make Goodsir feel any better.
"Strange, perhaps, but it would have been better." There's a hitch in his voice. "My father used to say that it was not for a doctor to judge his patients—that such was a matter for God, not us. And I judged, and in that, I failed you all."
no subject
It's easy to say those sorts of things when it's purely theoretical, after all. Or when it's about little things. It's easy to pull God into it - a habit Billy dislikes, but won't blame Goodsir for, especially when this isn't even close to Irving levels of it.
Point is-- He doesn't think Goodsir's father ever accounted for a situation like that.
...
He inhales, and then exhales - and as he does, something a little heavier seems to come over him, mirrored in his tone.
"And there is no changing what has already happened." Something twitches near his lip. "Yet I live."
Now. Somehow. He's still having trouble processing that himself, making him look a little confused as he speaks the words. Like he can't fully believe it yet.
no subject
Goodsir can't help a small, humourless laugh. "My father rarely ventured far from Anstruther or Edinburgh, so you are right in that." He sighs. "And ... indeed. The actions of the past cannot be undone, and you—you are here now. I do not know that I deserve any of the grace you extend to me, but I am grateful all the same, Billy."
no subject
Still, he won't speak up about it, nor will he argue it. If Goodsir sees it as grace, he can have it. Maybe it can make him look a little less miserable.
Instead another thought entirely strikes him.
"You are here too." The words are a little slow, but not because that part of the realisation is new - clearly Goodsir is here. But, everything considered-- "Does that mean you also.."
Billy's words trail off, but the rest of the question is pretty obvious, despite going unsaid. Billy is here, dead yet alive. Does that mean the same goes for Goodsir? Billy is well aware that Hickey finds the other man valuable, so Goodsir's odds seem relatively good there, but.. well, most of their odds were pretty shitty in the bigger situation, stuck out there.
no subject
"Yes," Goodsir says quietly. He ought to explain, he thinks. Billy will hear it—or a version of it—from Cornelius Hickey soon enough. He ought to get in front of it ... but he still can't bring himself to talk about it. The shame is too much.
no subject
"I guess we were all going to die out there, sooner or later." The sentiment he voices instead is - while not really intrusive - also not the most optimistic. But he likes to think it's just a realistic assessment of the situation they were in. Even the mutiny didn't really help much in the end, huh. "Between the food, and the illness, and that bear."
Not that it really was any of those three things that killed him. Nor did they kill Goodsir. But Billy doesn't really want to think about the former, and doesn't realise the latter.
".. but we're alive now."
no subject
Goodsir smiles—faint and hollow, but it's there.
"Indeed. And I am trying to do what I can for the living here. There's little purpose else."
no subject
It's not what he comments on, though. Instead the words make him think of something. Briefly his gaze returns to his own body, staring down at himself, but then he looks back over at Goodsir. Maybe the question would be a little awkward, considering what Goodsir told him before he died and how guilty the other seems about it now, but if he is carrying out his doctorly duties here anyway like he's making it sound.. well, then who else is Billy going to ask? He doesn't even know if there's another doctor here at all.
"Have you ever seen an illness just-- disappear?" He pauses in the middle there, well aware of the ridiculousness of that idea.
But then again, dying and then suddenly being alive is just as ridiculous, isn't it.
"A serious one, I mean."
no subject
He has a pretty good idea of what Gibson's asking, and he nods.
"There is something in the process of being brought here," he says. "I was not—I was as ill as you, in the moments before I came here. When I woke in this place, I was restored to something like health again."
The scars on his arms itch. He glances down at them briefly, tries not to scratch.
no subject
It's strange. Not that Billy is going to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything, but..
"What do you reckon is going on here?"
The other has been here for longer than him. And honestly, Goodsir is just about the smartest person he could ask under the current circumstances, even if he isn't too sure if the other has an answer either. If anyone has a clue what's going on at all.
no subject
"Something terrible has happened here," Goodsir says. He sees little reason to mince words, although he's noticeably less harsh than he was in those last days with the mutineers. "The previous residents of the town ... they vanished, or died, amid some kind of horror. We still do not know exactly what happened, but something ... brought us here. Perhaps to fight, I don't know."
no subject
(At least it's a little less bad than 'you're going to die for sure.' At least there's some more margin here, even if it's not much.)
"This 'something' makes odd choices," he settles on saying after a brief moment of thought. "I can't imagine why it would bring--"
He cuts himself off. For a moment it sounded like he was going to say us, but then corrects himself to continue with: "--me here."
It's not even self-deprecation. Billy just knows he isn't special in any way. At least Goodsir has some very specific knowledge to offer, but what does Billy have? He truly can't imagine why any sort of strange force would bother to revive him and bring him here.
no subject
Goodsir smiles thinly.
"Some of the people here are ... unusual. And there are some who are little more than children. I see little rhyme or reason to it. Perhaps it will make some kind of sense in time."
no subject
".. Perhaps," he slowly says. It'd be nice, but he's not going to get his hopes up.
Still, after a slight pause, he does add: "Thank you for answering my questions. I appreciate it."
It also sounds tired, and not too emotional, but it doesn't sound insincere either.
no subject
"Of course." He nods, and ... well, what else is there to say, really? Very little, except: "Good luck, Mr. Gibson."