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singillppl2024-02-05 02:31 pm
singmod) wrote in singillppl2024-02-05 02:31 pm
Entry tags:
February 2024 Test Drive Meme
FEBRUARY 2024 TDM
PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: Yet another 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 — OF FAIR FORTUNE: After spell of bad luck, finally, the Interlopers find A Very Good (albeit slightly spooky) Boy.
PROMPT THREE — BAD PICKINGS: An error is made when foraging for mushrooms that have been altered by the Aurora makes for some interesting situations for the Interlopers.
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.
You awaken. You are not where you were before. It’s different for everyone, there doesn’t seem to be much of a pattern in where you find yourself. You may open your eyes to find yourself in a cold, dim and dank cabin. The air is stale, dust hangs in the rays of weak sunlight that shine through the tiny windows. Someone lived here once, but they aren’t to be found. You look around, it seems like no one has been here in several weeks, maybe longer. The fire is stone cold, the dishes in the sink are mouldy — it's possible the place has been ransacked, as if they've gone through the drawers and cupboards looking for something. 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. Interlopers who arrive during the month of February will find themselves especially likely of falling foul to accidental injuries and the like. It's as if the bad luck of finding yourself in this place only gets much worse. Maybe you get yourself horrendously more lost than you mean to, maybe you end up with a sprained wrist or ankle after a fall, torn clothing from fighting through the thicker parts of the wilderness.
But soon enough, you'll be able to find a path to town. A little more worse for wear, but alive. It’s here you may find someone else in the same boat as yourself, equally freezing and confused — battered from the journey. 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. Some of them will direct you to the Community Hall, tell you to head there — you've been expected.
There is a sombre mood to the town. Although you can't quite place why, maybe you should ask?
Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building from which the biggest of the smoke trail rises: a community hall, by the looks of it. 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, but looks sad. He smiles warmly despite the sadness in him, and with pity, ushering you in with haste.
“Another batch of poor souls from the wilds.” he nods gravely. No, this is not the first time that this has happened. “I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. The lights are changing things, bringing more of you here. Come, we must get you warm and fed. Mother Nature has not been kind.”
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 and perhaps a rare canister of coffee, along with soup and stew and trays of charred deer and rabbit meats, plus some grilled fish, instant mashed potatoes, and tinned vegetables. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast. The old man has been busy. And Methuselah will continue to busy himself, still; there is plenty to do. He will fetch blankets, tend to wounds, serve food and drinks. He does not have much time to talk. More and more people seem to be coming in from the cold. He will not stop to sit and rest until everyone is seen to, taking up a place by the fire to gaze silently into its flames. He is very troubled, thoughtful. Much has been happening. The others from town will eventually trail in too, to eat and warm themselves, and search among the new faces.
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, his mood is... low, mournful. but perhaps you might be able to get some answers from those fellow arrivals who’ve been in this place for some time now.
This time, if he is approached, particularly by those who have been in Milton for some time, he will frown in thought. He is… considering something. Finally, he will speak:
“I had hoped that the secret cache I and your fellow Newcomers had found two months past would be enough until the spring comes.” He hesitates for a moment, his gaze moving to one of the many windows of the Community Hall. “If she ever arrives, that is.”
He doesn’t believe it will.
“More and more of you come. Life will continue to get harder with the numbers rising.” Methuselah explains. “Milton is but one town, and the way out to the south is blocked.”
He means the road out — the one that follows out of town, past the gas station and through the mountains. The tunneled road ends there, caved in with snow and stone. There is no way out that way. Methuselah is quiet for a few moments.
“... There must be another way out. For all of our sakes. It must be found."
OF FAIR FORTUNE
WHEN: The month of February.
WHERE: Milton Outskirts, Milton area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: otherworldly animal;
The Interlopers have discovered that it is not best to trust the canines in this world. The wolves and volatile, aggressive — prone to attacking the town, people. There has even been an instance of a dog leading Interlopers off the beaten track some months ago, into trips and falls and all sorts of mischief. To come across any sort of dog these days would draw suspicion, perhaps even aggression from Interlopers.
And certainly, coming across this particular dog is enough to turn plenty around and start heading in the opposite direction.
There is something…. Otherworldly about this dog. In terms of breed, one might recognise it to look a great deal like an Old English Sheepdog — but far bigger and hardier. It almost looks as if moss and vines are matted in its long fur, which seems ridiculous — but it’s true enough. The dog does not bark, but instead will stop and look at you silently when you come across one another. If approached, it will not run off, but it does not want to be petted and prefers to keep a respectable distance between you and it.
Then, it will turn to look in one direction and begin heading that way. It looks as if it wants to take you somewhere, but it won’t run off for you to catch up. It keeps to your side, silent and steady as you head through the snow, the woods. Wherever you’re going, there seems to be no rush in getting there.
It’s a little unnerving: where did this dog come from? Why does it look so… strange? Where is it going? Where is it taking you? But even with these questions, it doesn’t seem like you’ll find much in terms of answers, not at first.
Soon enough, you’ll find it. It’s different for everyone, but it seems like it all has some recurring theme. Perhaps out in the cold wilds of the Northern Territories, you’re in desperate need of shelter or warmth — you and the dog will find yourselves facing an abandoned cabin, a place of safety from the cold, perhaps with warmer clothing within. Or perhaps the dog may lead you to some secret stash: a metal cache half-hidden in the snow, a small stone cairn — with vital loot hidden within: matches, flares, maybe even food. It may even lead you to foragable foods: mushrooms, berries or of the like — all safe to consume.
Whatever the strange dog leads you to, it is a fortune. A small one, but a fortune nonetheless. It seems as if it wanted to bring you to something to aid you in your time here. Upon finding whatever it is the dog leads you to, the dog disappears — never to be seen again.
BAD PICKINGS
WHEN: Mid-month onwards for a few weeks.
WHERE: The entirety of the Milton area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: altered food/foraged foods; drugs/hallucinogens / negative hallucinogenic trips; severely altered/warped moods; temporary amnesia; personality switches; loss of senses
The Northern Territories may be harsh, difficult conditions to survive in, but certainly not impossible. There is an abundance of wildlife, hardy enough to withstand the weather — even in the extreme, unpredictable times such as these. Foraging will soon come to be a staple for those stuck here in this world, and is just as important as hunting down any deer or rabbit. Flora is not only useful in terms of sustenance, but in its use in medicines and tinctures.
Mushrooms can be found here and there in particular areas: taking advantage of the wet, rotten wood of downed trees, or nestled in the sheltered undergrowth of the more densely wooded areas where it’s a little more suitable for fungi to grow. But not even the flora of this world is safe following the recent Auroras. The world is changing, and for the next few weeks — foraged mushrooms will have some… interesting effects, when consumed.
Interlopers that come across these mushrooms in the wilds will find themselves compelled to pick and eat these mushrooms right away. They're perfectly fine to eat raw, just more enjoyable to eat once cooked.
The effects of the mushrooms will last between eight hours to a full day, depending on how much was consumed. Nothing can be done to alleviate symptoms. You will feel incredibly hungover the day after the effects have subsided, and feel completely fine after that. The Aurora’s influence on mushrooms is only temporary, and the mushrooms will cease their effects after a few weeks.
Reishi mushrooms This mushroom will temporarily take away one of your five senses: sight, touch, smell, taste or hearing. You may find yourself feeling completely numb to touch; or unable to hear or see anything.
Oyster mushrooms Eating one of these mushrooms will give you temporary amnesia. You may forget yourself, things about your life, even your own name. Or maybe you will forget those around you. Or perhaps both.
Black Morel Eating this mushroom will seem to switch your personality to its complete opposite. Introverted sorts will become extroverted, those prone to anger will become more calm and chilled out, cheerful sorts will become more morose — and vice-versa.
Chanterelles Your mood is lifted and you become more cheerful and affectionate with those around you. You may even become more enamoured with the next person you happen to meet, regardless of your feelings towards them previously or your own orientation/attractions.
Amethyst Laccaria There is nothing supernatural or strange that happens when this mushroom is consumed. You just have a super bad hallucinogenic trip of your own horrible making. This mushroom is literally a nightmare. Sorry about that.
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. Please Do Not Pet That Dog.
1. Interlopers that pick a variety of the mushrooms and cook them together to eat will suffer the effects of whichever mushroom was in the largest quantity.
2. The mushrooms are fine to eat raw, and characters will feel compelled to eat them raw.
no subject
Yeah. Caught me off-guard, but I'm good.
[ There's a hint of concern to his tone, as much as he wants to believe her when she says his blindness will be temporary. But he decides not to panic about it just yet. Give it time. For now, he follows her into the house, and is probably going to just stand there until she directs him further inside. Good chance he'd knock something over on top of hurting himself if he tried finding his way around on his own. ]
How long have you been here?
no subject
Five or six months, I think? Give or take.
[It’s hard to keep track, sometimes.
Fortunately the house she’d claimed as her own has a fairly open layout, so it’s easy to skirt around the couch and coffee table in the living room on their way to the kitchen and dining room. Once there, she’s going to gently guide him in front of one of the chairs around the dining table, so he can feel the edge of it against his legs. Then she’s going to reach for his other hand and place it on the back of the chair, to try and make sure he’s orientated.]
The chair is right beside you. Go ahead and have a seat. Since it’s going to take a bit for the water to boil for your bath… do you drink coffee? I think there’s tea, too, if you’d rather have that.
[He might as well have something warm to drink while she gets all the water necessary on to boil.]
no subject
That's a while.
[ He has to wonder if there are others who've been here for even longer. It's entirely too possible, and concerning to think about. He's not even supposed to exist anymore, let alone be here. Everything's just gone wrong, off the path.
He nods and takes a seat on that chair with relative ease, turning towards the sound of her voice even if he can't see her. ]
Wouldn't mind a coffee. [ He offers an apologetic smile. ] I'm sorry I can't help much right now. And you're doing all of this for me, it's— really kind. I'll owe you for this.
no subject
[There’s the question of why he remains when the rest of the town was gone. Beyond what he’d told them. But there’s so much they don’t know about what happened. Just the glimpses of some of their last moments given by the Aurora. Too many questions and not enough answers.
Once he’s sitting down she fills the stove with wood, and fills the kettle with water and sets it on top. Then, after a second… she focuses… and the wood is lit aflame. Well. At least she’s not going to be in want of matches much anymore. It’s not the same as the powers she’s lost, but it’s something.
She’s about to go grab the giant pots for boiling water for baths when he says that, says that he’ll owe her, and she just looks at him, shaking her head even though she knows he can’t actually see it.]
Absolutely not. You won’t owe me anything for this.
[This place might have stolen her gift, she might no longer be able to foretell trouble when its coming… but she can still protect people. She can still help.]
no subject
[ She might not even know, but he asks regardless, eager to absorb as much information as he can. There's very little chance he'll be able to figure anything out if no one else has, but that doesn't mean he's not going to try. A new perspective can change everything.
He hears her walking around, and tries to picture what she's doing since he can't see it. It's annoying as hell. Well, at least he focuses on it being annoying rather than the scary possibility that she is wrong and he might not get his sight back. ]
Too late. I already do. Sorry, I'm a textbook helper.
[ She cannot escape, he will do something nice or useful for her. Probably both. ]
no subject
[Just adding the list of fuckery/potential fuckery that happens here. And she might not say it in so many words, but she doesn’t have to. The tone of her voice makes it clear that it wasn’t anything good that they saw.
She huffs a soft amused laugh at his insistence, as she changes direction and grabs a coffee mug, filters, and coffee. As well as sugar, in case he prefers his coffee sweet. She’d worked out pour-over coffee pretty much right after she arrived. She’d considered it a very important part of survival.]
Then how about you drink some coffee once it’s brewed and have a hot bath after.
[Is that not exactly how that works? Yes. Does she absolutely mean it all the same? Yes, yes she does.]
no subject
[ He gets the feeling it's not going to be anything good, but frankly, he'd rather know the truth than stay in ignorance. Knowledge is preparedness, after all.
He's smiling a little to himself now. She doesn't insist, and he'll take it as a win. He's going to owe her now, whether she'll need it or not. Odds are she will, though, given their circumstances. ]
Thanks. I'll take it with one spoon of sugar, if you have any.
[ His hands stay carefully still on the table, lest he knock something over and make a mess. ]
no subject
[Those are the ones that bother her the most. The ones that hold the most questions for her. WHY? What happened to them? What did this place DO to them?]
One spoon of sugar it is.
[She’d lucked out with her choice of shelter. It was fairly well stocked, and she’s done her best to make sure it stays that way. In part because of moments like this. She gets everything measured out for once the water for coffee is finally hot enough, and turns her attention to the other half of the equation. Bath water. She has a couple very large pots that are perfect for the task, and she hauls them easily over to the sink to fill them.
Only problem is that they weigh a hell of a lot more once they’re full. Which takes a while, to be fair, but it only delays the inevitable. She inhales slowly, gathering herself for how much this is going to hurt… and she lifts the first pot from the sink to the stove as her ribs and wrist explode in pain. Fuck fuck fuck. She’s biting her lip, because while he can’t SEE her he can sure as hell hear her, and she doesn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to herself. Or her injuries.
Her exhalation is a little ragged, as she tries to breathe through the pain. But casually. Like nothing’s wrong.]
I don’t suppose anything strange happened before you lost your sight?
[Somehow she manages to keep her voice mostly level, just the slightest hint of tightness slipping into it. And this is both a distraction and a genuine inquiry. If there’s a cause, or if it was environmental… With this place there has to be more to it than just sudden onset blindness.
What the fuck did it do?]
no subject
Possibly, we all have that to look forward to.
[ Depending on how long they're here, it's entirely plausible that whatever happened to the locals will happen to them too. Just a matter of time.
A grim thought that Jim's glad to be pulled away from, for the time being. This time, he definitely hears the pain in her strained breathing and voice, and even blind, he decides that's just about enough. He gets to his feet, hand on the table as he walks around it so he can get closer to her. ]
Alright, I'm blind but I can still haul a couple of pots. Let me do that, you can guide me.
[ He lifts a hand towards her and waits to be led. He's not letting this go, for the record; but he'll go back to that question later. ]
no subject
[She huffs a laugh.]
WHAT that something is, I couldn’t tell you at the moment.
[There’s more to it than that, of course. This isn’t her first time being yanked to a different world. There’s usually SOME sort of reason behind it. No way she’s fucking proving THAT, though.
Fucking HELL. She’s irritated; with herself, not with him. She appreciates the concern, even if she’s caught a little by surprise by it (as she often is; especially from a stranger), but she doesn’t want him to worry about her. He’s got enough on his plate right now.
Granted, it doesn’t seem like she’s going to have much luck stopping him. So when he lifts a hand towards her and waits to be led… she’s just going to take said hand and attempt to lead him back towards the chair.]
That’s exactly why you SHOULDN’T haul any pots. Look, once your sight’s back you can haul all the pots for me you want. It’s not necessary. But you could. I’m fine, honest. I’ve been in far worse shape.
[Not necessarily as reassuring as she means it to be. But it’s absolutely the truth.]
no subject
For a brief moment there, when she takes his hand, he actually thinks she's accepting his help. That is, until he realizes she's walking him back to his chair. He digs his heels in, tugging his hand away and shaking his head. ]
Yeah, well, I've had a hole blown through my chest, so I've definitely been in worse shape. Just let me help you before you crack the rest of your ribs, alright?
[ It's a wild guess, but he's fairly sure he got it right. ]
no subject
This is what she gets. This is what she gets for being such a stubborn little shit. She sighs. Resigned. She’s brought this on herself. The multiverse has a very twisted sense of humour, sometimes. She should be used to that by now.
She arches an eyebrow at him, something that’s practically audible in her voice for a moment. Filing that comment away for later.]
You look remarkably well for someone who was badly shot. And look, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to work around broken ribs. And it probably won’t be the last. Probably won’t even be the last time they end up being from falling through a floor. [A brief pause and then she amends that.] Although it might be the last time they’re from falling through a floor in a haunted house. Not that I’d put it past this place to have more than just the one.
[Look, it’s a weird place. Anyway, fine. He’s not going to stop until she lets him, probably, so she’s going to swallow down her determined stubbornness for once and concede. This time.] But alright.
no subject
No. No, he is not.
But she is right in that he's not just going to let this go. He's stubborn to a fault, and he doesn't care that he's blind. For a moment there, it's very much an unstoppable force meets immovable object scenario; one is going to give, but when? And after how much arguing? ]
Miracles of modern science.
[ Gonna brush it over just like that for now, rather than say that he has no idea how the injury was healed, or why he's not dead right now. Instead, he just stands there quietly, stubbornly, hand held out and expecting her to eventually take it.
At least he has the decency to not look too pleased with himself when she concedes, just a twitch of his lips that he quickly wipes off his face, taking her lead so he can grab that first pot. She'll need to guide the way, so it's not like either of them is entirely useless here. See, it's teamwork. ]