singillatim | extinction is the rule

extinction is the rule

SEPTEMBER 2023 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — THE AURORA: AFTERSHOCKS: The Aurora comes, bringing chaos to the town of Milton. Electronics go haywire, and the Interlopers learn of the original citizens of Milton.

PROMPT TWO — THE HOUR OF THE WOLF: Tainted by the Aurora and attracted to the noise of people inhabiting the town, several packs of wolves descend upon Milton.

PROMPT THREE — IT SPEAKS: A voice comes to the Interlopers, one that knows them and their darkest fears and deepest insecurities, persuading them to fade into the Long Dark by any means necessary.

THE AURORA: AFTERSHOCKS

WHEN: Sporadic nights over the next month.
WHERE: Milton area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural horror; ‘ghost’ horror; hauntings; death of npcs in various ways including suicide, murder or exposure to elements.

After the feast, and making sure the newcomers to Milton are seen to, Methuselah packs up. He will explain to others that while he will return to check in, he is no resident of Milton and will not stay. He is a nomad, something he has been all his life. He lives in nature. That is where he belongs. But he does assure that people are welcome to remain sheltered in the Hall if they wish to. And sure enough, the old man leaves, wishing the newcomers well. He can still be found out in the wilderness, and will shelter and feed those out exploring should they come across him.

And so the days and nights of this world roll on. The initial time of those who have come to be stranded in this world is unsettled. The weather is always changing, even if it remains bitterly cold. On some nights throughout the next month, however, the snow clouds clear and Interlopers are given a rare, clear night. At first, it’s beautiful: without the light pollution, all the stars can be seen, the moon casts an eerie glow upon the snow in the dead silence of the night. One might even say there is a kind of peace that comes with it all. And for some of these evenings, they pass by: uneventful and silent — the long darkness of an endless winter’s night.

But on others, it isn’t so uneventful. The noise starts: faint at first, but then growing louder. Something in the heavens above. An ethereal, high-pitched chorus of sounds difficult to place. There’s a kind of electrical buzzing with it all, a low, endless hum punctuated with cracks and pops that echo. The sky is alive with sound, louder than anyone could ever expect it to. With it comes the swirling streaking of colour against the inky black of night, growing brighter and brighter as the night goes on: The Aurora has come.

And it isn’t the sky that comes to life too: the whole town does too. Streetlights, illuminating the town’s roads; lights in stores and homes will come alive, buzzing and flickering often. Previously abandoned cars will turn on, their headlights blaring but faltering. Electronics that had previously seemed broken flick on — and whilst there are no broadcasts available on televisions, and the radio waves only drone on in static, both only occasionally blaring standard emergency broadcasts. Any computers and phones will turn on, but will have no internet or reception. Instead, Interlopers may find texts and emails — many of them unsent. The everyday lives of their users stored within, now readable.

But there’s something else too. The Aurora doesn’t just awaken the electronics of the town. Dotted around, in the streets, in homes, in stores, the lights of the Aurora begin to take shape: spectral-like forms of people, their faces hard to make out, details difficult to define. They move in glitching patterns, they speak with voices distorted by static. Eagle-eyed Interlopers may recognise the forms of some, a body or an action:

These are the residents of Milton, in their last moments on this earth.

The forms act out short scenes on repeat: a desperate fight between two men over a vehicle, a murder in a store during a riot, a suicide alone in one of the many houses. An argument over the communication lines going down. A sobbing teen curled up on his bed. A child stares up at the skies, their hands over their ears, crying in fright. A woman begs for her father to leave his home and head to the coast with her, to try to make it to the mainland, but he refuses to leave. A man succumbs to the cold walking alone in the outskirts of town without proper clothing for the elements. Several of these ‘ghosts’ are people fleeing before they stop and simply gasp, staring off into the distance for a few seconds before they drop dead on the spot.

There is nothing that can be done to stop these endless loops. Nothing to help these poor souls. Each of these moments are captured by the Aurora: final, desperate and tragic moments in some unknown, chaotic time. Some of these ‘ghosts’ maybe stop after so many loops — flickering out into nothing, others will last all night. But all will be gone by the morning and the Aurora comes to an end. There are answers, and there are none.

THE HOUR OF THE WOLF

WHEN: Sporadic nights over the next month.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: (wild) animal attacks, altered wildlife, possible character injury/death, possible (wild) animal injury/death.

The growing presence of people within the town of Milton has meant more light, more warmth, more noise. The Aurora has created great change, but people are not the only thing the ethereal lights in the sky has brought down upon this old mining town.

When the sun slips below the horizon, and the clear skies of burnt embers and inky blues alight with stars, they come.

A lone howl, long and haunting. It is the first signal, which carries on the air. You can’t seem to place from which direction it comes from, it feels like it encompasses you. Then another voice joins it, and another, and another. A chorus of them. As the sound echoes off, another fills its place: a strange feral chittering, snarling and snapping — the drumming of feet upon the snow, heading right for you.

Wolves.

Unnatural, glowing green eyes in the dark — tendrils of light seeping from them as they rush in and encircle those they come across outside. They come in packs of three or more, and they are clever. They’re quicker than any wolf you’ve ever known, bigger and hardier too. They will try to strike fast by zipping in when you’re distracted, snapping and nipping at legs or trying to take quick bites out of arms before drawing back. They work together to bring their prey down, a solid unit of noise and teeth. They will hunt down those who hide inside, try to claw their way inside of homes and buildings — dead set on finding you and tearing you apart. There is no hiding from them. They will find you.

But breaking the pack can send them back. If they’re broken, their morale is depleted. Fire is your biggest friend: torches, campfires and flames will keep them mostly at bay and only the bravest of these packs may attack. Striking them with flares or flames will actually send them into brief retreats. Bullets and arrows are effective with both noise and injuring the wolves, and although hitting one will be difficult due their speed, it’s possible. Killing one of these wolves will dissolve the pack’s morale entirely, and the rest will flee off into the night.

Until next time. Maybe it’s best you don’t stick around. They do hold a relentless determination.

IT SPEAKS

WHEN: Over the next month, possibly longer.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: psychological horror; mental manipulation; themes of suicide; themes of depression; potential self-harm; potential feelings of isolation; potential attempted suicide.

There are whispers. Small, at first. Distracting. Perhaps it is only the wind you hear. Milton is so quiet, even with the new hustle and bustle of the new people to this place. Wood creaks and the trees rustle, there are plenty of sounds you could mistake it for.

‘Interloper.’ It is an old voice. Something deep and dark and ancient. Something impossible, older than the earth itself. It floats into your ears and nestles there, sending an ice-cold shiver down your spine. Even to the most stoic and unshakeable souls, it is a unnerving voice. It feels wrong. It feels like an ending. To hear the voice is deeply unsettling... and yet... you recognise it.

It comes to you, in the dead of night when sleep is far. In the long stretches of day as you go about your business, as you travel across the frigid landscape or gather firewood or try to pass the time within whatever home you’ve made for yourself. For some the voice will be clear as day, for others it may be some distant whisper — something gently murmuring in your ear. But the voice will be heard, no matter the person.

‘Interloper. Do you know what it means?’ It asks. ‘It means one that involves itself in a place it does not belong. You do not belong.’

That it isn’t the only thing it tells you. For everyone, it’s different. It knows you. It picks up on any weakness, any insecurity. It makes you feel small, insignificant. It tells you all the quiet, terrible things you hide down within yourself. For days, weeks, the voice is there. Speaking to you. It will wear you down, insist you are not wanted, that you do not belong here.

... And wouldn’t it be better if you weren’t here at all?

The voice seeks to break you. It will push you to your limit. Sleep will become hard to find, your spirits low and hollow. In time you might seem to believe it. Maybe it’s better if you weren’t here. You don’t belong in this place, why should you stay?

‘Disappear, Interloper. Go into the Long Dark.’

Perhaps you next find yourself atop the steep cliffs, looking down into the Milton Basin below. Perhaps you find yourself with a gun in your hand, or a rope. Perhaps you find your feet carrying you out into the snow. You’re going to disappear. You’re going to go into the Dark.

Or maybe the voice isn’t so loud. You can push it down, ignore it. Perhaps Faith is what keeps you steady, perhaps knowing who you are despite your faults stops the voice from taking over. Maybe you can help those who can’t block out the voice. Words of encouragement, affirmation, kindness, determination, even spite. The voice wants you dead, but you will not let it. You will not fall. You will not let anyone else fall, either.

FAQs

THE AURORA: AFTERSHOCKS

1. While examples are given, players are encouraged to come up with their own ghostly loops of similar loops. The key thing to remember is that the people of Milton have descended into public disorder. Fights, arguments and murders have occurred, as have suicides or other unexplained deaths. People are frightened. They want to leave the town.

2. Ghostly loops cannot be interacted with, only witnessed.

3. There is no way of putting these 'ghosts' to rest. These loops are more like residual memories, as if the energy of the townsfolk remained, and have been reconstructed by the Aurora.

4. The wolf attacks and Auroras occur on sporadic nights over the course of the next month, with the Aurora being the first thing, then the wolves. It's unlikely you'll get both on the same night. While the wolves are attracted to the Interlopers' activity, the Aurora's light and noise will keep them away from the town during Aurora Nights.

5. Sharp-eyed Interlopers may notice that the 'ghosts' of those who are staring off into the distance before gasping and dropping dead are looking skyward, towards the east.

THE HOUR OF THE WOLF

1. Due to the Aurora's influence, these wolves are harder, ~~better~~, faster, stronger, than typical wild wolves. They do not die as easily, and are much more difficult to wound and kill. But not impossible. Scaring the wolves will be far easier to accomplish.

2. Wolves will return, sometimes more than once on the same night, or on other nights during the month. The only sure-fire way to have them stop coming back is to kill the pack.

3. Wolf meat is technically edible. But not advised due to parasites. Characters are still welcome to harvest the wolves they kill, however. ~~Who would say no to a cool ass wolf cape.~~

4. The wolf attacks and Auroras occur on sporadic nights over the course of the next month, with the Aurora being the first thing, then the wolves. It's unlikely you'll get both on the same night. While the wolves are attracted to the Interlopers' activity, the Aurora's light and noise will keep them away from the town during Aurora Nights.

IT SPEAKS

1. Characters can be talked down and broken from the voice's influence by others. Genuine connection and empathy will work massively, but even encouragement and affirmations to keep surviving will be powerful enough to break the voice's hold.

2. Players are welcome to play with the length of time the voice can be heard with characters. Some may want to have it over a short space of time, others can have this progress over a longer time period.

3. The voice can come at any time over the next month.

PLOTTING POST

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Clayton is as gentle as he can possibly be, given the circumstances, but he has the calm, authoritative presence of someone that knows how to handle a person, too. Definitely not his first time helping someone onto a bed, even if this bed happens to be a pile of blankets on the floor. He quickly hops up, snags one of the few spare pillows, jogs back.]

Me neither. [The chance for a distracting story? Golden. Clayton takes it immediately.] Used to get coyotes on my aunts' farm all the time, though, back when I was a bit younger'n you. They'd go and hassle the chickens.

[He moves away from the anecdote for a moment, kneeling next to Levi's injured leg.]

I'm gonna elevate your leg in a second - should help with the bleeding. Got any numbness or tingling in your toes on that side?

Coyotes?

[He nods.]

No...well, maybe tingling? Its mostly the bites that hurt.

[He's not acting like he's in that much pain, though. He's had much worse before.]

[Clayton nods, already working on carefully sliding the pillow under Levi's foot. His coveralls don't seem too tight on him, so he settles for rolling up one of its legs instead of cutting it away to get a better look at the damage.

[More medical questions later - back to the story, first.]

Yeah, coyotes. You don't got 'em in-- [ don't say Europe don't say Europe ] --Europa? They're like wolves, but smaller. Somewhere between a fox and a wolf, I'd say.

I don't think so...but I don't pay that much attention to animals.

[Except when they were trying to kill him, of course.

He reaches down to help pull up the pant leg over his wound. ~~Also at some point he put his gun down.~~ There were a few shallower bite wounds, but the main problem was a bigger one. The wolf seemed to have bit down and shook its head, possibly trying to just pull the leg off.

Levi does wince whenever Clayton first touches the wound, but remains silent.]

[Clayton's eyes gloss over the wounds, brow knitting further with sympathy. Lots of deep punctures, some nasty lacerations - definitely going to need to disinfect the hell out of this. If the wolves do have rabies, Levi's a goner.

[He doesn't tell him this, naturally. No need to panic. Clayton is absolutely not panicking.]

Well, they got a lot more nerve than a wolf sometimes.

[He lets out a little, slightly nervous chuckle, reaching into the tray of assorted medical supplies that he grabbed on his first trip ~~and I totally forgot to mention~~ for some reasonably sterile rags. Those are firmly pressed against his wounds and wrapped, to get some consistent pressure on them.]

But that's just when they know they can get away with it - when you leave the chicken coop open in the middle of the night. They'll run if you're loud enough or big enough, 'cause gettin' hurt's the worst thing that can happen to 'em. Means death, more or less.

[Clayton flashes Levi a lopsided grin.]

Don't got nobody to patch 'em up, y'know?

[Levi just kind of watches Clayton. What was the point of this story? He knew sometimes doctors would talk to distract their patients, but he didn't think his wound was that bad. Maybe this guy just liked to talk? He doesn't know, he's just confused and doesn't bother to hide it.]

Uh...yeah. I guess they don't?

[It's a little bit of both, to be honest - Clayton rambles to calm his own nerves just as much as he does it for his patients.]

Right. [He huffs a laugh, as if Levi has definitely understood exactly what he's trying to say. Obviously he doesn't and Clayton still has a good bit of babbling left in him, so he continues: ] So when they ain't well, they get desperate. Start attackin' dogs, then kids. They feel like, if they're gonna die anyway, then they ain't got nothin' left to lose in tryin' to protect themselves and get a bite to eat.

[Okay, better disinfectant...they have precious little real antiseptic, but there's enough bar soap and melted snow to stretch it out for a while. Clayton stands again to grab those supplies - a cupful of water fresh from the communal boiling pot, a little shred of soap, a priceless bottle of isopropyl alcohol. He continues talking as he walks.]

That's what I'm thinkin's going on with the wolves, yeah? They've got some kinda illness or they're starvin', maybe...

[He winches and draws in a sharp intake of breath as the first touch of the alcohol.]

They're not starving. They're too big and strong. But there is something wrong with them. They kind of glow. Putting them down is probably the only thing we can do for them.

[He just assumes this is like moonscorching and there was no way to recover from it. Though if it was curable he feels no guilt in killing them anyway. Its not like he was going out into the woods to hunt them.]

[Clayton winces back, both in sympathy for Levi's obvious discomfort and at the information he's feeding him about the wolves. "Healthy" probably isn't the right way to describe animals that are...glowing? But they aren't the desperate beasts Clayton's been envisioning, either.]

I know - I'm sorry, it's gotta get cleaned. I'll be done in a minute, I promise.

[Focusing on tending to Levi keeps Clayton's mind preoccupied for a little bit, so he lets the conversation go idle while he systematically pulls back the initial bandages on each wound, wipes them away with a warm, soapy rag, applies what little antiseptic he can spare, re-wraps them. He picks it back up eventually.]

...Ain't never heard of glowin' wolves before. How...much? Like just a lil' shine 'round the eyes, or a whole body thing, or...?

[Probably not rabies, then.]

I'm fine. It barely hurts, the alcohol is just always sudden.

[He idly watches Clayton wash and redress his wound. It didn't look that bad. That was good.]

Uh, their eyes glow. And they kinda...trail light sometimes. I don't know, I've never seen it before. The last wolves I've fought...well, never mind.

[Clayton lifts his eyebrows, but otherwise doesn't deny Levi's insistence that this totally doesn't hurt, don't worry doctor man he's sooo tough. He's familiar with the type. Levi's very stoic, not to mention military, so he's not too surprised that the kid fits in that bucket. Clayton does not stop being as delicate and tender as he feels is appropriate.

[The next time his brow rises, it's in surprise and curiosity rather than skepticism.]

--Oh? This ain't the first time?

[Well, he's had much worse...]

Yeah but...its not really like here. And I guess I don't know if they were wolves or dogs.

[Clayton frowns, brow promptly dropping into a concerned crinkle.]

They'd be awful big dogs if you'd mistake 'em for wolves.

[Slight detour - Clayton has left the nastiest wound for last, hoping that more time under pressure would help it stop bleeding a bit more, but as he unwraps it he finds that it hasn't quite closed up as much as he'd hoped. He starts cleaning it up as normal, but with a disclaimer: ]

You're gonna need stitches for this one. You alright with that?

[Not that Levi has much of a choice - their options are either stitches, or he slowly bleeds out or dies of a festering infection from an open wound. The illusion of choice is important, though.]

...yeah.

[Especially the blue one. She was huge.]

Okay.

[Stitches were annoying, but he guesses that bite is pretty bad. It was too bad he was dragged here without any herbs or vials.]

Just tell me before you start.

Alright, well--I'm cleanin' it up a bit more, then we'll get to it. Sit tight.

[Clayton's more methodical about washing this particular wound; the other ones are shallow and easy to manage if they get foreign materials in them, but he only has one chance here without causing Levi significantly more distress later. He's trying to be gentle about it while continuing to distract Levi from the pain.]

You had a lot of wolf-sized dogs where you're from?

[He nods and watches Clayton intently. If he knows when the pain is going to come it was easier to brace himself.]

No...but when I went back to Prehevil things were...weird.

[There's more thorough scrubbing and disinfecting involved. Clayton's had enough training and experience to avoid sympathy-wincing too much, but it still takes a conscious effort.]

Yeah? Weirder 'n here?

I don't know, but at least a different weird. Things seem, um....safer here.

[At the very least. Even on wolf nights.]

[Clayton chuffs a laugh, apparently picking up on a similar tangent to Levi-- ]

Think the wolves that jumped you would disagree.

[ --But he thinks he knows roughly what Levi means. There's a difference between an unexpected wolf attack and finding out a whole town has become a death trap. Things could quickly progress to that level here, but Clayton doesn't point that out. He's not trying to make Levi panic.]

I don't think those things do much thinking.

[They seemed to be pretty single minded while infected with...whatever the hell it was.]

They're not always here, though. And there are safe places to hide.

[There had been in Prehevil too, he just never stayed in any for long.]

Point.

[Clayton's eyebrow arcs and there's a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth; he's interpreting this as a joke, and he's happy to keep doing so. The "wolves don't think much" bit, not the hiding bit. That's more concerning, and Clayton isn't even going to address it right now - it's time for stitches.]

Alright - 'bout to sew you up. Put a little bit of lidocaine on there, but it ain't much. I'll try to be quick. You ready?

A-alright.

[He takes a deep breath and steels himself for the pain that's coming.]

[Clayton flashes Levi an apologetic smile. Yeah, this generally sucks, even with access to proper medical equipment, and with a regular needle-and-thread and what equates to a packet of Icy Hot this is not going to be an enjoyable experience for either of them. Oh well - it's got to get done.

[The warning given, Clayton starts sewing. At least he knows what he's doing and is, as promised, quick and precise with his needlework.]

Try to relax, if you can. [Here, he'll help!] You mentioned a place - "Prehevil?" What was it like 'fore you went back to it?

[Before it got Weird. Happier memories, hopefully.]

[He watches the needle intently, as he'll do the entire time Clayton is sewing up his leg. He does tries to relax, though...but he's not able to do so much. Clayton's choice of distraction did not help.]

Horrible. It was always terrible.

[He'd rather not talk about it, especially now when he's expecting to be in pain.]

[ haha, whoops!! Clayton's reassuring smile becomes distinctly strained as he mentally backpedals.]

I'm sorry to hear that. [Okay, but maybe commiseration will help? Different track: ] Was anywhere in the Eastern Union not terrible? Sounds like a pretty unpleasant place for a lotta reasons, if I'm bein' honest.

extinction is the rule

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