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singillppl2024-04-06 07:44 pm
singmod) wrote in singillppl2024-04-06 07:44 pm
Entry tags:
April 2024 Test Drive Meme
APRIL 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 — FROM FROTH-CORRUPTED LUNGS: The heavy fog plaguing the Northern Territories takes a far more deadly and sinister turn.
PROMPT THREE — SHARP CLAWS, YAWNING MAWS: Interlopers come face to face with another native animal to the Northern Territories stalking the rockier areas — and unfortunately, these feline beasts have also been warped by the Aurora.
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 April will find themselves waking up in a world filled with freezing cold fog, cold enough that it will feel as if your skin is burning. A kind of cold that will not shake easily. It will be easy to get lost in the fog. Best hope there's someone out here that might come across you to help you find your way.
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 smell it through the fog: the scent of smoke that seems to cling in the still air. Fire. Not just one, but several perhaps. Civilization...?
Follow it, and soon enough the way you’ve taken will certainly become a path or road. Unfolding before you in the foggy mountainous forests, you’ll see the most welcome of sights, even if it may appear a little eerie in the half-light gloom: 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.
Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building where many people seem to gather: 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. Everyone looks as though they could faint from the cold at any second, damp and shivering.
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, this fog has made it so difficult.” 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.
FROM FROTH-CORRUPTED LUNGS
WHEN: The month of April.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural/extreme weather; poisonous fog; potential respiratory/lung-related illness/injury; potential burn injuries; themes of peril
A thick fog has descended onto the Northern Territories as April comes, often difficult to navigate in and a kind of cloying damp that often brings a certain kind of wicked chill to Interlopers out travelling in it. The kind that sinks in one’s bones and takes too long to be chased away with heat and dry clothes. Sometimes, it feels almost suffocating, like it’s exhausting to be out in it — as if one might feel more like they’re underwater than on dry land, struggling to breathe if they’re out in it for too long.
It’s certainly a miserable affair for those in this world, the cold was bad enough without this.
And certainly, it can get even worse.
Maybe it’s a trick of the light, the strange thickness of the fog in the pale Spring light, but you notice in certain patches there’s… an almost green tint to the fog. You don’t have time to look at it for long. It descends upon you with a fluid steadiness, silent in its approach.
To touch the fog with bare skin, a hand, even the exposed face — you will be met with a sudden burning pain, far different to the biting cold pain of the rest of the fog. As soon as the green fog comes into contact with you, it slowly begins to burn at you — searing away at any flesh, a slow and terrible experience.
To breathe it in will be an even worse experience: it will feel as if one is slowly inhaling tiny fragments of glass, and each breath will be painful and suffocating. Coughing up blood is likely, and being out in it for too long will bring a slow, agonising death of suffocation.
Heading indoors is the best bet to ensure survival, with plugging up any doors and windows or drafty spaces to ensure the fog doesn’t seep inside. After that, it seems like the only thing you can do is wait it out. Hopefully you're stuck inside with a friendly face, and somewhere with a fire. Otherwise, it's going to be a bad time trapped inside waiting it out. The fog will eventually dissipate, and all that Interlopers will be able to see is the usual cold fog — but that could take hours of waiting.
Burns to the skin can be treated with typical medical care, and bathing the wounds will cleanse them of any lingering poison, but Interlopers should take care of signs of infection in the days afterwards. For those who suffer from inhalation of this green fog, Methuselah will direct them to Reishi mushrooms — known for their antibiotic healing properties and can be found in abundance in the world. Interlopers will find that breathing in the steam from boiling and steeping these mushrooms in water will soothe their lungs and help in the healing process.
SHARP CLAWS, YAWNING MAWS
WHEN: April, onwards.
WHERE: Milton wilds; Milton Mines (Lakeside Entrance) area; The Ravine area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: animal attacks, altered wildlife, gore, possible character injury/death, possible animal injury/death.
Certain kinds of wildcats are native to Canada and thus the Northern Territories. They are elusive animals, often keeping to themselves and have largely gone unseen by the Interlopers during their time here in this world. But the world is changing, and it has long been understood that wildlife has been altered due to the Aurora’s influence — particularly with wolves. Unfortunately, these solitary and evasive felines will not remain this way for long.
The wildcats tend to stick to the more mountainous areas of the Northern Territories: Milton’s outskirts being a primary example of this, but also the sheltered and rocky passage Interlopers must take if they are to travel through the mines and down the train tracks that lead into Lakeside. It is here in particular that they make their appearance with the recent footfall between the areas.
For newer Interlopers, it is a frightening sight. For some Interlopers who have been in this world for some time, it is an all too familiar sight to behold but no less terrifying. These beasts are warped by the Aurora and are far bigger and faster than any usual wildcat, with huge, hulking bodies, elongated fangs and unlike wolves: they can climb. Green, glowing smoke curls from their bodies and eyes, a kind of electrical current rippling over their coats with a strange shimmer. They lurk from above and wait for the opportune moment to strike — a far more silent and deadly attack than the wolf packs of last year. But if you’re paying attention, you might be able to spot them before they make their move.
These altered beasts will come no more than three at a time, but will usually attack alone. They will work with a frenzied determination to bring you down and make you their next meal. Cats, after all, are obligate carnivores. They will enjoy giving chase, and running will be the worst thing to do in dealing with them. It is best to stand your ground and try to fight back this way.
They are frightened of flames, and loud noises from gunfire or flares will keep them at a distance — but it’ll take a decent amount of ammunition to take them down, much like their canine counterparts Interlopers already encountered. Taking one down will be no small feat, but there will likely be the reward of a thick, warm pelt for those interested.
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. Skin open to the elements is at the most risk of being burned, so it's best to wrap up/cover any bare skin. Covered skin would eventually burn if Interlopers spent enough time in the fog to have their clothes saturated by the damp.
2. Breathing in the fog is the most pressing issue for everyone as a whole. The green fog can affect Interlopers who don't breathe.
1. Bobcat, Canada Lynx, and Cougar are the three kinds of wildcat native to Canada. Due to the Aurora's influence, these wildcats are bigger, faster and stronger than typical wildcats — with Cougars being the largest of the three.
2. Killing them is difficult, but not impossible. Scaring them will be far easier to accomplish than killing them.
3. Wildcat activity will continue onwards from April, but will reduce with the Interlopers' efforts to fight them back.
4. Wildcat is technically edible. But not advised due to parasites. Characters are still welcome to harvest the wildcats they kill, however.
Re: \o/
Not from your universe, I'm afraid, [ He starts, feeling like it's only fair he clears that up right from the get-go. ] But I've been told there's a Starfleet version of me, at least. James T. Kirk. United Earth Fleet.
[ It's probably a lot to ask that McCoy even knows who he is, but some recognition would be nice. He... thinks. ]
1/2
no subject
What.
Wait, no, he's finding his voice through the shock, looking hard for any trace of his old friend. The easy smile, perhaps, the way he carries himself; a familiar glint in unfamiliar eyes– or is he merely just hoping he sees him?
Ambassador Spock had come from another universe like theirs, the ripple that became a rift that became a branching timeline. Part of himself would always be defiant to any idea that his life was lived before him, by another Leonard McCoy that the Ambassador held in so high esteem.
Doctor or no, he kind of wants to knock this Jim's block off, an existential crisis that resolves itself in a few short seconds. )
Bullshit.
( Flawless argument. )
no subject
So that disbelief is a little unexpected, Jim's eyebrows arching up his forehead, lips curling in a mix of confusion and amusement. ]
I'm sorry?
[ Did this guy just— you know, call him a liar? ]
I am James T. Kirk. And... you know me, I take it?
no subject
I've known James T. Kirk for the better part of a decade, alright. We went to the Academy together; he's my captain, for Christ's sake.
( Captain, best friend, the first person to get past Leonard's prickly exterior all those years ago after that shuttle to San Francisco, believing he was more than just a soggy drunk with a failed marriage.
Maybe it's for Jim's sake that he stays in his seat. Fine, he'll hear him out. )
Where'd you say you were from? 'United Earth Fleet'?
no subject
[ His first guess is this man is from some time after him. He's fairly sure the Kirk in La'an's timeline hadn't made it to captain yet, so that about lines up.
Questions are to be expected at this point, after all he's just told his guy he's an alternate version of a close friend of his. Well, he figures they're close friends, anyway. ]
Yes. In my reality, Earth is uninhabitable. We've built colonies on several planets and moons, Luna being our main settlement. The year is 2259 for me— so if you knew me already at that point in time, I'm sorry to say that we've never met in my reality.
[ If McCoy even exists, in his reality. That's a definite possibility that he won't bring up, though he expects McCoy to realize it himself. ]
no subject
( Stands to reason, sure. Captain across the multiverse, a universal truth.
Though he's hardly expecting Jim to unveil a history such as that. Earth is inhabitable? Dear Lord, why? The thought that he might not exist is there, sure, but so much less of a concern to the greater revelation. Earth's past for him was fraught with war and destruction, but they had rebuilt. )
2263.
( That might be it, feeling tongue-tied, but he manages a quiet: )
I'm sorry about Earth, Jim.
no subject
But for all of McCoy's careful sympathy, Jim doesn't seem too bothered. He smiles a little, and shakes his head. ]
It's fine. Been that way for a long time— well before I was born, even.
no subject
He takes another sip of his cooling coffee. )
Well, aside from freezing your ass off out there, ( it's a grumble, but a light one, ) How do you find the place?
no subject
(He has to believe that, anyway. That something good has come out of that sacrifice.)
A small smile at the question, as he takes a seat next to McCoy, stretching his legs comfortably. ]
It's rough. To be fair, I've never spent much time planetside, but still. [ A shrug. ] It's freezing cold even when there's no fog over the town, some buildings are in various states of disrepair, any sign of technology doesn't work outside of rare phenomena that happen without warning or schedule, and we're limited to either what little supplies we can still scavenge or grow for ourselves. Going anywhere is either incredibly difficult or impossible, and has to be done by foot. There's a group of people who are becoming concerningly more aggressive, and some kind of creature that comes to Milton at random. It's reportedly caused the death of a few of the Interlopers.
[ Jim swallows down the knot in his throat. He's not going to delve further into that, not if he can avoid it. ]
We do have running water, at least. For now, anyway. But it's cold as balls.
no subject
After a beat, he can't help a smile too, not after a closing remark like that. It's just a flicker before it's gone, and he drains his mug before he speaks again. )
I can't believe I'm sayin' this, but I think we've seen worse odds. ( Just in case, he raps his knuckles on the small wooden table beside him. After Altamid... he draws back from the thought. There's at least more that he can do here, on Earth. )
Where can a Chief Medical Officer ply his trade around here?
no subject
You're not gonna run out of work as a medical doctor, here. People get sick, and often injured too. There's a lot of manual labor involved, and long treks that can cause plenty of accidents. Doctors are scarce too, so you'll probably find demand far outweighs supply. Do you have any experience with field medicine? That would come in handy.
no subject
Yeah, I've had more than my fair share of it. ( He sets his mug down before he explains, stretching his legs out before him like Jim has, ) We've been out in frontier space for the past three years, on a five year mission. Sometimes solutions to problems had to get basic.
What about you? How's your skills at roughin' it, being a Lunar baby and all?
( The corner of his mouth twitches, a glint of humor in his eye. )
no subject
[ So yeah, solutions are going to have to be basic, and McCoy's going to need to get creative about it. He'd learn that soon enough.
He shoots McCoy a look, perfectly aware he's being teased and just letting him know there's going to be payback. ]
I've managed to stay alive and in one piece so far. I call that a win. [ He points a finger at McCoy. ] And technically speaking, I'm a ship baby, not a Lunar baby.
no subject
The dead tricorder in his pocket feels heavy. )
Oh, ( he says, breezily waving off the distinction and Jim's pointed finger, ) Close enough. What ship?
no subject
He huffs out a chuckle, grinning and shaking his head. God, teasing feels good. ]
USS Iowa. It's where my father served at the time.
no subject
( Not the Kelvin, or one of her shuttles, but the Iowa. The multiverse sure has an unbelievable sense of humor. It makes him laugh, unbidden, the sheer coincidence-that-isn't-a-coincidence of it just so absurdly funny.
He quiets soon after, his face hot, and he leans in to briefly clap Jim on the shoulder. )
I guess if I still had any doubts, that'd put 'em to rest.
no subject
Still, McCoy's reaction gets a puzzled look from Jim. The confusion is brief, though, because Jim's studied about Earth when he was a kid, he knows his stuff. Well, enough to get where that amusement might come from. ]
Let me guess— your Jim was born in Iowa, the place on Earth?