singillppl | December 2023 Test Drive Meme

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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

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

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.

MISTY FALLS CAVE

1. Tools found would be basic survival/camping tools one might expect: knives, hand axes, rope, handsaws, torches, batteries, etc.

SERPENT'S BREATH

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.

TALES FROM THE NORTHERN TERRITORIES NEWSLETTER

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Renny gages the stranger, his demeanor. He decides to risk it.]

No, I'm Renny. Renny Oldoak.

[Said with a small smile as he takes a seat beside Wolfwood. Most of the Big Folk treat halflings as amusements - especially when they're presented with a gesture of goodwill and an open demeanor. He hopes this is the case.]

Jests aside, yes. I'm a fellow lost soul.

[ Wolfwood blinks, his stoic fuming interrupted by confusion. He's renny? What the hell does renny mean? Is that a...?

And then it clicks, and his shoulders slump as the joke lands. That's his name. All the damned in Hell who could have come to sit next to him, and he gets the comedian. ]

You're gonna lose more than that if you keep that up.

[His smile doesn't budge an inch. The man's not into jokes. That's okay. The show will continue to go on. Renny's committed himself to the bit - and as a bard, he is not going to half-ass a performance.]

Lose what? My soul? Funny thing to say. I was under the impression we came here in one piece.

[ Two days ago, Wolfwood would have sworn up and down that there was no such thing as a soul, not unless you were using the term metaphorically. Somebody could be a kind soul, or put their soul into their music, but an actual thing? A part of himself, that would live on after death? That didn't exist.

Or so he thought. ]

Yeah, and if you want to keep all your pieces, then leave the jokes at the door, got it?

[ Oh he's in a sour mood. He can feel the fire's heat through his palms, burning hot, and he clenches both hands briefly into fists to distribute that warmth. Even though his hands are turning red from the heat, his bones still feel chilled. ]

There's nothing funny about any of this, Oldick.

[The insult is water off his back; he's been heckled with worse when he was still learning the strings, and he's able to recognize when he's prodded a tiger's toe. Renny lets his smile drop a bit, though it isn't fully gone.]

Being dragged into another plane is a serious matter, I won't deny that. [But, is the unspoken sentiment, what use is there in brooding about it? He won't voice it. He'll simply take another sip of soup.] Still, a way in means there's a way out. That's how it always works.

Always?

[ The joker here's one of those glass-half-full people, isn't he? Is there anyone more infuriating than somebody who insists on looking on the bright side? ]

Not in my experience. There's plenty of places where once you're in, you're in forever.

[ And this, he's sure, is one of those places. If whoever runs this frozen wasteland is going to the effort to not only pull living people from all over, but resurrecting the dead? That's too much power to spend on somebody you're planning to release. ]

[You run into all sorts when you're an adventurer - the chipper, the dour, and whatever lies in-between. This world is grim, Renny can't deny it. But in this moment, there's kind people and hot food. That's enough for him to keep a positive outlook.

He considers the man's statement.]

Maybe. [Because he doesn't want to admit 'yes.'] But as far as places go, it doesn't seem all too bad. We could have found ourselves in chains.

[ That just earns Oldoak a snort. He's right, of course -- this could be a lot worse. He was expecting a lot worse! There's warm food and a fire here, it's peaceful, safe... but he just can't help waiting for that other shoe to drop. It's going to turn bad, somehow. Things always do. ]

So what'd you mean by a different plane?

[The question actually surprises Renny. He blinks. It's such a fundamental part of how the universe works that he never thought he'd meet someone who doesn't know.]

You're asking the wrong man. I'm no wizard.

[Aaaand immediately after he says this, he continues.]

You could liken it to a layered pudding, [there isn't an ounce of joviality in this comparison, he's serious] only the layers are realities instead of cream cheese and whatnot.

[ He knows all of those words, but in that order they don't make any kind of sense. ]

Cream cheese pudding.

[ Oldoak's expression is serious enough, but he's got to be pulling another dumb joke. Right? ]

[Renny frowns. He can tell his delicious simile isn't getting them anywhere.]

Don't worry about it too much. What's important is it's all intertwined.

[He's vastly oversimplifying it, he knows. Were Gale here, a more detailed - if long-winded - explanation could be given. Renny's knowledge lay in the world's emotions, not its more technical intricacies.]

[ Then congrats to Renny, on invoking the emotions of frustration and annoyance. ]

Maybe that's true for your pudding-shaped world... [ No, he's not going to let that go any time soon. ] ...but my world's not intertwined with any place. The world's just the world. There's other planets, but they're years and years away, so you want to try that one more time?

Try one more—

[Exasperation seeps into Renny's voice. The insinuation that Toril's pudding-shaped is awful, how in the world did this man get there, but he wants to get to the heart of the matter.]

However I put it, it'll make your foul mood worse. [Read: you're going to think I'm talking out my ass anyway. Renny motions to his stew.] You seem miserable and cold. Why don't I grab you a bowl?

[ He's both miserable and cold, but at least having somebody to be annoyed at is helping distract him from the existential crisis he was having before Renny sat down. ]

Pass.

[ But there's the faintest hint of a grin as he says it. He got Mr Sunshine here to sound annoyed, if only a little bit! ]

So, have you ever been to one of these other planes? Leave your world and, what, go walking in another layer of reality?

[ He genuinely doesn't understand how that could work, but at this point any answer is better than what he's got, which is no answer at all. ]

[Suit yourself, Wolfwood. He sees the subtle little curve of your lips. Renny sips his stew, then another. Warm food's a good way for him to smooth over his irritation.]

Only once.

[By his tone, he doesn't want to delve further into it.

(so his pudding analogy did get through. good.)

Renny stops to think. Dreams are strange gateways to both the mind and other influences. He doesn't know how to categorize his meetings with the dream visitor. It was all in his mind, one could argue, yet... he opts not to bring it up.]

You hear stories about planewalkers, those with the power to traverse the boundaries of worlds... but there's more stories still of hapless adventurers swept away by unpredictable, arcane forces. Showing up here or in the Hells or gods-know-where was bound to happen to me one day.

`[ His pudding analogy was terrible but yeah. Wolfwood picked up enough of what Renny was trying to say. The only worlds he's ever heard of being layered together are the living world, Heaven, and Hell, and trips from the living world to one of the others are one-way and permanent, so the whole idea that there might be more layers than those three is a new one. ]

How are you sure? [ He's got a packet of cigarettes in his pocket, and he can't think of a better time to pull one out. They're crushed, some torn, and the packet is blood stained, but they'll still smoke. ] That this isn't Hell? Or a Hell?

[Renny gestures about the room.]

Too many humans. No offense. Not even a devil in sight.

[A clear indicator, in Renny's eyes. As abundant as humans are in Toril, the Hells should be brimming with more: elves, halflings, tieflings, perhaps an especially impenitent and violent kobold.]

And the food's- it's not the best, but it's good.

[ No devils? He's tempted to grin so his sharp incisors are bared, and ask if Oldoak's sure about that -- from where he's sitting there's at least one devil in the room -- but to be honest, he wants the other man to be right. He doesn't want this to be Hell.

He doesn't know where else it could be -- where do dead monsters go, if not Hell? -- but god, please. Let this not be Hell.

His lighter's nearly out of fluid, but there's enough to get this one cigarette lit. Damn. The next one might need a brand from the fire to get going. ]

Huh. You're not human then?

[He can't hide the surprise on his face, the way he looks dumbstruck for a whole second. Surprise melts away into laughter, genuine and bright.]

You must come from a very different plane! I've never had anyone ask me that before!

[ The laughter comes as a shock, and leaves Wolfwood sputtering for a reply. ]

Well what the fuck am I supposed to think, huh? Two arms, two legs, no feathers, nothin'...

[ He gestures with one hand at his own back, an odd bubbling motion, like he'd expect a non-human to have spirals tufting up from their shoulders. ]

You got horns under all that hair or something?

[He has no clue what Wolfwood's trying to convey with his gesture - spines? Horns? Mushrooms? - but it makes the situation even funnier. Renny suddenly stops laughing and leans in.]

I'm a mind flayer, actually. What you see is but a cocoon of flesh and blood, a nourishing prison for my true form. [He taps his head.] When the time's right, I'll rip my way out and help myself to everyone's brains.

Edited 2023-12-18 17:25 (UTC)

[-okay, he can't be serious about this anymore. He bursts out laughing again.]

Just joking! I'm what the Big Folk call a halfling, with a bit of dwarvish blood from my mother's side.

[ The man’s been fucking with him since he sat down, and that’s the only reason why Wolfwood’s response to that ‘mind flayer’ comment is just shifting his posture slightly, giving himself quick access to the weapon secreted up under his arm. Jokes like that are a good way to get yourself dead, Runny.

But the joke doesn’t last long before the asshole’s laughing, dropping names of what Wolfwood can only assume are other groups of non-human people that he’s supposed to somehow know about. There’s really only so many jokes like this that he can handle without responding with violence! ]

Are you tryin’ to get yourself shot?! What the hell kind of bullshit was all that brain eating nonsense?!

[This man is touchy - very touchy. Renny's seen adventurers with similar demeanors, the ones who nurse their drinks close and their swords closer, eyes drinking in every movement and shadow. Wolfwood isn't trying to pick a fight for the sake of it. Doesn't seem like it.

It clicks for Renny in that moment. He's still smiling, but it isn't as mischievous as before.]

Sorry, didn't mean to get you that worked up.

[Truth be told, he shouldn't be making such jokes. Nestled deep in his brain is the mind flayer parasite - asleep for now, but who knows how long that'll last? But Wolfwood doesn't need to know any of that.]

What made you think this was Hell, by the way?

You mean, other than the company?

[ There's no bite behind that snarl, though. Renny is right -- Wolfwood doesn't want to fight. It's just his nature to be confrontational and to hide his confusion and discomfort with anger. He's just a grumbly kind of person -- hopefully Renny won't take it personally. ]

Tellin' people you're not human then pretending to be a mind slayer... anyone ever tell you your sense of humor sucks?

[ And no, he's not answering that question about Hell. If Renny hasn't noticed the tattered and bloodstained suit beneath his blanket, and what it might mean for the man wearing that suit, well. Wolfwood's sure not going to call attention to it. ]

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