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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
I see.
[ Last town in existence, huh? Still doesn't give him any real idea as to where they are, but it sounds foreboding. Even the wastes have settlements dotted around, caravan routes between them. The idea of there being nothing else other than a single town is frankly kind of terrifying, though. Still, even if the man he's travelling with has forgotten the art of conversation, it makes no difference to Maccready, he'll press on. ]
You got supplies and stuff there? Food, defences… Clothes?
[ The first two are important, sure, but the latter is what he's most interested in. How this man is out in this cold dressed like that he doesn't know, but Maccready has never experienced weather like this before, and it more than shows. ]
no subject
Food. Clothes. Shelter. Maybe weapons if you can find them.
[He paused, walking onwards. How the cold didn't seem to affect him was a riddle for the ages. Somehow, he just managed to override that part of his mind that connected with his body and kept on sending it signals about the freezing temperatures. Eventually, he spoke again.]
Will be hot food at the Community Hall. Old mountain man prepares some every time new arrivals come.
[Rorschach still wasn't sure how trustworthy Methuselah was but the man had recently taught him some valuable skills, so between that and taking care of new Interlopers he couldn't be too prickly around the old man.]
no subject
He nods at the response, though. Is glad to hear that there's something waiting in this town, especially weapons; the lack of his rifle on his back is beginning to feel like a missing limb. In any case, he's more than content to slip back into silence; it's not a comfortable one, by any means, but if neither of them are much for small talk, there's no use forcing it for what would only be social etiquette. Not that Maccready had much of that in the first place. That the man speaks up again is honestly a surprise. The promise of hot food is appealing, but… ]
Old mountain man? What's that about?
no subject
[He snorted softly which showed how skeptical he was that was the man's real name. After all, he himself went by a superhero moniker, so he had no doubt the old man was hiding his real name for whatever reason. The explanation that came was the longest he'd talked thus far.]
Showed up when the first group is. Doesn't stay in town long but always there when new Interlopers come. Then he goes back out into the wilderness. Can find him when you need to. He'll teach you skills to survive if you want.
[Rorschach himself had recently gotten back from spending quite a bit of time with the old man learning how to track animals and people both. There'd been a price to pay in the form of a horrible stomach flu he'd come down with but Rorschach figured it was more than worth it.]
no subject
But, then it's his turn to snort. He's not sure exactly what an old mountain man might be able to teach him — Maccready might not be a child any more, but there's still a disdain that comes to the surface from time to time. ]
I've survived everything the wastes have thrown at me so far, I'm sure I'll manage. [ It's not said with arrogance, a little bitterness, maybe, but he states it as a fact. ] Wherever this is, it can't be that different from what I'm used to. This weather, though…
[ That's the real kick in the teeth, the thing he's sure at this point is most likely to stop him in his tracks. ]
no subject
[That sounded like a name or nickname for some part of the world that Rorschach was unfamiliar with. Then again, this guy could have possibly come from some other world entirely, so it was possible he was talking about something that Rorschach had absolutely no frame of reference for.]
Depends on what you are used to.
[Even if he was used to vicious animal attacks, Rorschach highly doubted that Maccready's background had prepared him for things like a siren temptress, ghosts caught in a loop of trauma, vampires for neighbors, and the fucking Darkwalker.]
Get good shoes.
[That was the best piece of advice Rorschach could give. He'd be down a toe or two by now if he hadn't been gifted the deerskin boots that were just his size.]
no subject
Uh, yeah… Y'know, the Wasteland. [ he says it as if it adds any clarity. ] State the world was left in after the war when they dropped all those bombs and nuked the place to sh— Well, you get the point.
[ There's a lot of bitterness in his voice when he says it, it might have been two hundred years ago, but he's one of the people having to live in the aftermath. ]
Used to a lot of things. Bugs the size of dogs, super mutants the size of small buildings carrying Vertibird guns, ferals, being shot at day in and day out, no clean food or water… The usual.
[ Granted, he tries not to get mixed up with the super mutants, steers way clear of anywhere there might even be a trace of a Deathclaw. A wry sort of smile falls on his face at the advice, though, and he wipes at his nose with the back of his hand. Glancing down at his shoes, he thinks it's probably good advice — his boots have held up pretty well for as long as they have, but they've never dealt with weather like this. He kicks at the snow as they walk, huffs a bit, breath drifting out into the cold air. ]
Yeah, you're probably right about that, though.
no subject
Bombs were about to be dropped in my time just before I was brought here.
[Well, with that list of weird-ass things he was used to, it was possible this guy was going to be able to survive in Milton alright.]
Ghosts, magic powers, and some god trying to kill everyone is what we've been dealing with. Can adapt to that, you'll be fine.
[Rorschach glanced down at Maccready's feet. They were the same height which likely meant their shoe sizes were similar as well. He'd had boots he'd scavenged when he'd first arrived before the white deer had given him his current pair. Now they were just gathering dust in a closet, mainly because they were still half a size too big for his small feet.]
Have shoes that might be close match. Finding ones your size will be difficult otherwise.
no subject
Yeah? And what year was that?
[ The rest, at least, gets a raise of his brows. It all sounds like stuff from comic books, and he can't even begin to imagine what a 'god' might entail. There's people who fancy themselves gods in the wastes, and then there's religion too — or was. He'll… figure it out as he goes, is most likely.
He glances at the man as he talks about how it might difficult, and he gets what he's hinting at, yeah, he's… on the shorter side, he guesses. But he's never found it to be much of a problem before. As far as having something available, though, Maccready's pretty surprised this guy is offering something at all, if he were in his shoes — pun not intended — he's not sure that he'd be so generous if he had spares to go around. Never know when they might be needed. Besides, he'd rather not be indebted to someone the minute he gets here. ]
You don't have to do that, man, these have done fine by me so far, and if there are places to scavenge— [ is scavenging a normal part of life here? He doesn't know, maybe it's rude. ] Uh, look through? Then I can figure something out.
no subject
[He was quick to reply. The idea that people had survived in some fashion was actually a heartening one to the vigilante. He'd thought it would be the end of the world and that would be that, only the cockroaches left to inherit the irradiated landscape. One of Rorschach's greatest strengths is that it was very hard to extinguish hope within him, no matter how small or diminished it was.
He did understand why Maccready might have been suspicious of someone offering help so soon. But Rorschach had his reasons as he continued to explain.]
Scavenged entire town from top to bottom when first got here. Didn't find a single pair that both fit and were enough to withstand the elements.
no subject
[ He's not pre-war, but he's met a few ghouls who are, then there was the Vault Dweller… In any case, Rorschach needn't worry, though, plenty of irradiated giant cockroaches left. And humanity is still picking up the broken pieces, sticking them back together with nothing but 200-year-old Wonderglue and a prayer. He has no point of reference to what things were like before, has no idea if they'll ever be like that again at some point in the future — it seems impossible to imagine, given the state of things. ]
'Course, why would anything ever be fit for purpose. [ Biting back most of his sarcasm in his response, it's less directed at the man and more the situation. Scavenging is so more often than not a lesson in tempering expectations and still winding up disappointed at the end of it. ] This town — Milton? What's it like anyway?
[ Because he's imagining the kind of towns he's used to; ramshackle buildings made of scrap, maybe some sort of shelter made of brick and patched with plywood if they're lucky. They'll need something with fewer holes in this weather. ]
no subject
[He would have thought all the nukes would have gone off long before getting into the twenty-first century. The idea that Maccready was from over three hundred years in the future was mind-boggling. That had to make him the farthest in the future anyone had been taken from.
At the question of what the town was like, he thought for a moment before giving short, staccato answers.]
Small. Rural. Cold. Canadian.
[Rorschach was not the person to ask if someone wanted an actual detailed description of anything. That just wasn't his style.]
'Bout seventy Interlopers there or so. Mostly getting along.
no subject
Yeah? It'll probably continue to, least until someone makes more bombs, I guess. [ A grim expression falls across his face; he'd said it mostly as a joke, but the idea of being feasible isn't a welcome one, and instead he focuses on the man's answers. That they're short isn't a bother, they get to the point— His head swivels, looking at the man. ]
Wait, we're in Canada?
[ Not that he knows much about the place, besides what was left over from old faded newspapers and books from before the war. It seems so impossibly far away and alien to him, though. ]
no subject
[Rorschach was being entirely serious about that. The way that things had happened over the last six months or so had made him question time and again just where the Interlopers really were without ever getting a satisfactory answer. Methuselah, Mr. Talks In Riddles, had been no help in clearing that up for him.]
no subject
[ He wonders how the war changed the landscape there, other than the annexing, anyway. It's not something he's ever really had to give thought to, or much of the world, really… Did they fare better, or worse? ]
no subject
[Rorschach offered by way of an explanation. Sometimes, it was a bit of a pain to have read so much literature and therefore have an answer ready for questions like that. It just made all the weird theories he came up with hold that much more weight.
At the question, Rorschach started ticking off all the reasons he thought this place wasn't actually Canada. Having been there for five months, he'd seen a lot of weird shit.]
Hmmm, weird murderous sirens, goddess giving out powers, another god killing people through fright, haunted houses with ghosts you need to calm down, animals with strange abilities. That sound like Canada to you?
no subject
He listens to the things Rorschach lists off and, frankly, he can't tell if he's being genuine or not. This man seems entirely too serious to be cracking jokes or making up nonsense, and it's the second time on this walk he's mentioned some of those things, so… Best he can make out, he's resigned to taking his words at face value. By way of answering, he just shrugs. ]
I dunno what Canada was like before the war. I know it used to be a country before it was part of the United States. The rest of it just sounds like stuff we'd find in the wastes…
[ So in a way, it reasonably sounds like it could be Canada. He has no idea what the region is could be like now, two centuries after the war. ]
Eh, maybe not the gods, I don't really believe in stuff like that.
no subject
[Rorschach observed. Especially if the stuff he'd listed off just sounded like something normal he'd find at home. That was just lunacy as far as the vigilante was concerned. He'd seen some weird shit in his time too but nothing had quite compared with what he'd found in Milton since first arriving all those months ago.]
Canada was just a place as far as I knew till coming here.
[He turned his head to look at Maccready when he mentioned he didn't believe in things like gods.]
You will.
[He said darkly and without explaining anything further. Rorschach hadn't believed at first either. But that was before the strange woman had given them all magical powers that had absolutely no basis in reality yet somehow worked for all the Interlopers that had been brought there.]
no subject
It's all I know. Where you're from would probably be just as weird to me as the Wastes are to you.
[ The way he states it so simply, it's unnerving, if only because he sounds so certain of it. Sure of himself, and it leaves Maccready thinking that he's no doubt speaking from experience — that he's a man who had no prior belief in things such as gods until he came here. ]
Then I guess we'll see if I do.