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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.
hell ye!! here for some jirving in my life!!
[ Which is... much nicer. Granted, she's not much of a Newcomer anymore. She's been here way too long, now.
There's a soft inhale, her eyes widening for a moment and she steps out from where she'd been peeking from behind the doorframe — careful movements, hands slightly splayed. A Lieutenant, of Her Majesty's Royal Navy. Recognition flickers in her face, he's another one of them? ]
The Northern Territories, it's... somewhere in remote Canada? We're not totally sure where, though. [ The only maps they have is of Milton itself, but other than that it's... pretty much guess-work. They don't even know how big this place is. ]
I'm Kate Marsh. [ There's prickles of concern, her brow furrowing. But she's careful with her words: a complete stranger knowing about him is... admittedly kinda spooky. ] You're... you're from the Expedition, aren't you?
saluting doing the sign of the cross etc
At least, Irving certainly hasn't, and moreover couldn't have, but upon momentary reflection he supposes he shouldn't be assuming that's the universal experience, or even necessarily a common one. ]
I'm not so sure that either name truly seems... appropriate.
[ But then, there isn't much that he is confidently sure of at the moment, to the point where the longer he's here the more retroactively unsure he's beginning to feel about things he'd otherwise felt certain of his entire life.
Irving maintains that polite few feet of space between them, not because Kate seems anything but completely harmless to him so far, but because she's a young girl and he's a sailor, and he would of course hate to spook her-- bad enough they seem to be completely alone out here, and so much so she's the only other person he's even seen since waking. ]
Never even left the Arctic, then... [ he murmurs, mostly to himself-- or likely he's still in the Arctic, anyway, though granted he's no expert when it comes to the territorial geography. To her, he says: ] Do you know if there are any ports nearby? Maybe a town?
[ She must know, surely, because how else could she have been surviving here? Irving knows exactly how unlivable this part of the world can be.
Wait-- what was that? ]
That would depend on which Expedition you were referring to, wouldn't it.
[ And surely she can't mean... or can she? But how could she know? ]
no subject
She nods at his question, at least happy to share a little bit of good, even hopeful, news. ]
Milton. It's an old mining town. That's where everyone who finds themselves here ends up. There's... maybe about seventy of us living there?
[ ... Seventy people and she didn't get someone to come along with her. Totally getting yelled at when she gets back. Well. Gently yelled at. A firm telling off. ]
Terror and Erebus? [ Her head tilts slightly. It's gotta be, she believes. He's from the same one. There's a brief pause before she carefully continues. ] If... if that's your Expedition, you're... not the only one who's ended up here. I know some of the others. Three turned up the same time I did, others came a little later.
no subject
Well, hopefully. A population of only seventy isn't necessarily the most auspicious-sounding, but then-- ]
And those native to the town itself, how many more?
[ Unless it's a ghost town, which... is a thought Irving isn't entirely ready to try coping with just yet.
He blinks, then, looking at Kate with measured confusion bordering on alarm. A lesser man might have felt compelled, just then, to swoop close and shake her by the shoulders for more answers, but Irving remains still. ]
What? Who-- which others are-- a-and are you... quite sure of this?
no subject
... Everybody was gone by the time we arrived. [ Dead, she means. But it's possible maybe some got out before everything... went crazy. ] Mr Methuselah's the only person native to the area that we know of.
[ Everything about all of this is just... way too much and she's a little stressed because she can't help but feel sorry for him. Gosh, it sucks being the bearer of bad news. But... at least she has... some good news? ]
Real sure. [ She nods. ] I—I know Lieutenant Little and Mr Goodsir best. There's also Mr Crozier and Mr Jopson. Two others, too.
[ One of them she doesn't exactly know, but he hangs around with the one she's least likely to speak of: Mr Hickey. They tend to keep out of one another's ways. He's... kind of scary. ]
no subject
[ Irving's brows knit, troubled by that answer. Everyone was gone by the time we arrived ... meaning what, exactly? Nothing good, that much seems certain. His hands fidget restlessly at his sides, opening and closing over and over in a helpless feedback loop of anxiety.
Hearing those familiar names, however, does help bring him some comfort; a soothing balm against so many terrible unknowns. ]
Yes, I know them. Good men, all.
[
Not you, Mr. Hickey.]no subject
[ Some dying at their own hands, some at the hands of others, some... just dropping dead. ]
But we've... tried our best to make it a new community. We're surviving, trying to work out whatever this all is.
[ Something small in the face of so much hardship — truly miraculous. ]
I'm blessed to know them. Lieutenant Little's helped me a whole lot ever since I got here. [ She thinks highly of him in particular. And it does manage to bring a small smile to her lips. ] I'm sure he'd be super happy to see you. They all would.
no subject
His own smile is strained, a bit forced and visibly tense, but he manages it anyway as she continues to speak. Truly miraculous indeed, but that's mankind for you-- always fighting to survive against all manner of impossible odds. ]
I'm glad to hear it. You have supplies, then? Food?
[ Enough food...?
But it is genuine, that faint hint of a smile. ]
Lieutenant Little is one of the most honourable men I know-- you're quite right to trust in him. I'd happily follow his command any day.
no subject
Yes. And there's animals to hunt. Deer, mostly. Some fish, too. We're also trying to breed rabbits for meat. [ There's a small, awkward pause before she adds: ] And— I'm... aware of illness, in the Expedition. The Scurvy and the issue with your supplies. We can help with that.
[ Certainly with Scurvy, at the very least. And maybe with the Lead Poisoning, but she's— she's not entire sure about that. But she knows the other men have been healing in their time in Milton, and they're doing a whole lot better than what they were.
Hearing about Lieutenant Little from him does make her brighten, though. She's pleased not only to hear it, but that this Lieutenant also thinks highly of him. ]
I can take you back to Milton. [ She looks towards the door. It does make her wonder. Sure there's been animals and monsters meant to hurt them, but— the dog she'd followed out here... ? ] I— I guess that dog wasn't just wanting me to find this cabin.
no subject
[ Game to hunt had always been the hope, now hadn't it? And deer, fish, rabbit-- it's almost too good to be true. Not to disparage the taste of seal meat, of course, but almost anything edible tastes like salvation when you're starving. Better than chewing on wood, on leather, on cloth or on your own flesh.
Irving's expression grows a touch more solemn, but he only nods again. ]
We'd been using lemon juice to ward off scurvy, before, but it had clearly lost its efficacy in that regard some months prior-- maybe even up to a year earlier. As for the rest of our stores...
[ He shakes his head slowly, failing to encapsulate the full horror of it with proper words. ]
I'd like to just take a look through your supply, if it's not too forward of me. To... I'd like to see it for myself.
[ Because if poorly soldered, putrefying tins of food could make it past the Royal Navy, Irving just needs to be sure. Not everyone would know what to look for, necessarily.
He blinks, surprised. ]
Do you think it was leading us to each other?
no subject
I'm sorry. It must have been so difficult on all of you. [ There's a small, tight smile and she nods quickly. ] There's a community stock. Lieutenant Little's done some keeping track of that sort of thing, but I'm sure no one would mind you having a look yourself. The good news is.. tin cans aren't made the same anymore. They're better. Safer.
[ People actually worked out that lead's a pretty bad thing to use, especially where food and water are concerned. Kate knows it doesn't exactly help the men of the Expedition back in their own world — but it's at least something those that make it here don't have to worry about. ]
It's... possible, yeah. [ She nods. And, like, yeah. She gets it. Some strange dog leading people places does sound... kinda crazy. However, she does kinda have previous experience on this. ] There was a white stag, a few months ago. Almost like a ghost. Mr Goodsir was with me, and it let us approach. The next day, I woke up and there was a white deer-fur blanket at the bottom of my cot.
So... like, it makes sense some strange-looking dog might draw people together. Animals helping us. Not all of them, but— some of them, yeah.
no subject
I almost prefer having a hand in matters of inventory, myself, as my maths are quite precise, and always accurate-- even the work itself I find strangely meditative, at times.
[ His teeth catch briefly against his lower lip as if snagged on a thought, held there at the tangled, thorny cusp of everything he still can't, shouldn't, ever actually speak aloud, however much it may always haunt Irving to have been so thoroughly ignored by command, before, for all his warnings and recommendations for how best to ration what little they'd had left.
Hence this sudden need that he's feeling now to be able to count and recount the supply himself whenever the spirit moves him to, if only for his own peace of mind-- surely Little would find it more a relief than anything else if Irving took some of that burden off his plate. ]
I'll make sure to speak with Lieutenant Little about it later, [ he adds, managing a small, tense smile that is almost entirely humorless. ] although I imagine he'll only be glad of my assistance; between the two of us, I've generally more the head and the heart for both numbers and paperwork.
[ He pauses then, a furrow creasing uneasily at his brow. ]
All white, [ he murmurs thoughtfully. ] That rather suggests there's most likely active predators out there as well.