extinction is the rule

[singmod]

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

Comments

[burying]

[ He's dimly aware of the hand against his back. Even if he doesn't feel it, there's the knowledge of what he's trying to do. The voice rings in his ear: How many of them would look at you with kind eyes if they knew what you truly were? He knows Hickey would be one of them. How would he look at him if he knew the truth of what he is? How much of a monster he truly is? ]

No, no. It does, it does— [ His voice wavers, the words coming quickly. ] It does when it knows. It's— it's not me thinking it, I'm not—

[ He's not going mental, he knows he's not. Right? ]

It's talking to me and it knows me.

[friendsfordinner]

It bloody well doesn't, [ Hickey says, with a scowl. ] What does it say about you? That you're worthless? That you won't amount to anything?

[ As he says those things, Hickey doesn't connect that's what the voice has been telling him. ]

Rubbish. If it's trying to bring you down like that, then you're obviously a threat. Something it's scared of.

[ which might not be the best thing to say to the literal zombie. ]

[burying]

[ There's a shake of his head. No, it doesn't tell him those things. But it does call him what he already knows he is, what he struggles with every day he wakes, why he can't look at himself in the mirror. But he knows he can't say that: he can't call himself a zombie, a monster out loud, because that would bring everything he's so desperate to hide away into the light.

'If it's trying to bring you down like that, then you're obviously a threat. Something it's scared of.' Oh, the worst thing to say to him. And Kieren crumbles into waterless tears, curses tumbling from him. ]

I am the threat—! I'm the one— I'm— [ Christ, what is he even saying? He presses his hands to his face. He doesn't know what to do. ] I don't want to hurt anyone, I don't.

[friendsfordinner]

[ Oh almost instantly this gets Hickey's attention. It's a good thing that Kieren isn't looking at him because he's looking back with rapt excitement, like a scientist who just discovered a new specimen or a doctor curing a new disease. He's the threat? This scrawny little guy?

Hickey wants to learn more.

He squats down so that he's close to Kieren's level, looking over at him as he asks, ]

Why d'you think you'd hurt people?

[burying]

[ Why d'you think you'd hurt people? Even with his panic, the question makes him freeze in horror.

He's said too much. He knows he has, some part of him deep down within him tells him so: he's said too much. Edward Little had told him not to talk about it, and he's tried — but it's all fallen apart, just like he has. He shudders, his face contorting behind his hands: stupid, stupid—!

But he can't take it back, now. ]

I've hurt people before. [ His voice is low, he tries to calm himself. Slowly he moves his hands from his face. Hickey isn't so bad, even if he's a bit... off, right? He can hide behind half-truths again, like he did with Edward. ] And I know it was my fault even if everyone says it wasn't.

[ The voice crows the words to him, mocking him: I am a Partially Deceased Syndrome Sufferer, and what I did in my untreated state was not my fault. ]

And it might happen here, it probably will, I— I don't know. [ He has to exist with that uncertainty. ] But it knows that, and I know that. I shouldn't be here.

[friendsfordinner]

[ Now this. Ohhh, this is something useful to know.

He wants to press. He wants to ask so many questions. How? What happened? Why do they say it wasn't your fault? What did you do? But those questions can come later. Right now, Kieren is panicking. It's something Hickey's dealt with before, people too wrapped up in their own head. And he thinks he knows how he can lessen that, while also hopefully swaying this kid a little further to his side. ]

I've hurt people too, [ Hickey simply says (an account of which Kieren will get a very edited version of if he presses.) ] I'll own up to that. That was my fault as well. But you don't see me in shambles, do you?

[ He moves his hand that's on Kieren's back so that it's resting on the man's shoulder. Hickey gives it a reassuring squeeze, moving to look at Kieren, look him dead in the eyes as he continues with, ] What's happened in the past already happened. And if it happens here, then it happens. You fight that battle when you get to it. You've got every right to be here as me. As the rest of them.

[burying]

[ I've hurt people too. It makes Kieren stare with wide eyes. It's so strange, how something can be so different and feel so familiar all at once. It's like the others like Kieren, the ones who act indifferent to their deeds as untreated. It was only survival, they did what they had to, and it's not like they were really themselves, was it? What's the big deal?

It isn't something that sits easily within him. Kieren doesn't buy into that cop-out. He doesn't get a 'get out of jail free card' just because he was rabid. Aren't they better than that? Better than just shrugging off the terrible things? But it makes him wonder. ]

Who did you hurt?

[ It's like he's trying to absolve him, and Kieren only wishes it were as easy as that. It isn't. It couldn't possibly be. But there's so much more to explain to it, and it's so much more than he can't speak of. It isn't actions of a sane person hurting others when he lapses, it's the actions of a wild animal, of some terrible creature driven only by hunger and beyond any kind of thinking. ]

You really don't want that happening. Not this. If— if it happens, I don't think I'll ever come back again. I mean it. If I go, I'm gone. [ There'll be no Neurotriptyline to bring him back. He won't be able to to come back from it, he won't be 'Kieren Walker' any more. ]

And it doesn't matter who it is, I'll hurt anyone. [ He nods to the other. There's desperation in his eyes, in amongst the misery. Kieren doesn't want to hurt him. ] Even you.

[friendsfordinner]

A mate of mine, [ Hickey explains. ] Man named Billy Gibson.

[ Someone more than a 'mate.' Someone who Hickey viewed as his confidant for the better part of three years, a man who he grew close to, who's company he enjoyed, who he could possibly grow to love (at least, as much as someone like Hickey could love anyone). But he is keeping all that to himself. He doesn't know the mood here. He doesn't know how people would take that admission. Billy's a mate, nothing more. ]

He was ill. By that time, we were weak. Whatever it was that was in the tins, it was killing us, sapping our energy and draining us down to nothing. Fresh game would have helped, but we couldn't find any out on the ice. Billy had it worse. He was barely standing by the end. Joints achey, mind faltering, more of a shell of a man. He was in pain.

So I put him out of his misery and stabbed him in the back. [ There's a pause before Hickey says with absolute seriousness, ] And if you're so worried about hurting people? The moment you go, I'll do the same to you.

[burying]

[ It's not the answer Kieren's expecting and he's stuck for a moment, like a deer in the headlights. But... he listens. He remembers Hickey telling him about them all being stuck in the arctic, back home. For years. This must have been far down the line. They were... starving, something... in the tins? Something was making them sick in what food they had?

It's a whole other horror, and it's hard not to fall into that horror. He tries to keep up with it all. Billy was sick, dying. It hits him with sickening force, lips parting and comprehension falling over him with a quiet kind of sorrow.

He killed his own friend. Out of mercy. ]

I'm sorry. [ He utters it softly. ] I'm sorry you lost him, that... that you had to do that.

[ And he'd do the same to him, if he had to. Kieren lets out breath, half-sob and half-laugh. He's not the first person Kieren's had to tell about this. That... that he'd need to be put down if it comes to it. It feels... oddly comforting, knowing that people would do such a thing for him. It's... it feels like too much to ask. ]

I'm sorry that anyone might have to do this for me. [ In some way, he feels like he doesn't deserve it. He takes a steadying breath, nodding his head. ] ... Might need a bit more than a knife in the back, this time.

[ It sounds like it might be a joke, even with the strained smile. It's not. ]</small

[friendsfordinner]

[ Hickey's relationship with Billy Gibson was...complicated. He was the closest person to Hickey on the ship. He was someone who he routinely fought with. He gave Billy a ring to tie them together. He shat on the man's bed out of revenge. He stabbed Billy in the back as a mercy, because his lover was hurting and Billy couldn't pull anymore. He stabbed Billy in the back out of practicality, because they needed food and Billy couldn't pull anymore.

The relationship between Cornelius Hickey and Billy Gibson was a mess of complications. It's a mess that Hickey is going to pointedly not mention. Let Kieren think whatever he wants to think. It's most likely better than the alternative.

His comment about a knife in the back gets a dark little chuckle from Hickey. When he looks over at Kieren, it's with seriousness in his eyes. He wants the kid to know that when he says this? He means it. ]

If I have to stab you ten, twelve, twenty times in the back, I'll still do it.

[ Kieren thinks he'll hurt people. There is no way in hell Hickey's going to let himself waste this second chance before getting hurt. ]

And if you're somehow immune to stabbing? Find me a gun. I'll blow your brains out instead.

[burying]

[ He can't help but huff out a laugh, his head dropping. Honestly, the thought it kind of terrifying. The bluntness of it. To be told he'd stab the shit out of him, essentially. And if not, he'd shoot him.

And part of it does horrify Kieren, it makes him feel sick to his stomach. He doesn't want to die, as much as he hates being like this, as much as he hates what he is and what he could do. He still means the worst he told his sister: he was glad she didn't shoot him. But here? Now? The certain assurance of it all soothes him in a way. ]

That's... weirdly comforting. [ It's hard to really put into words. The other man doesn't know the full extent, but... yeah.

He reaches up with one hand to run it through his hair, sniffling a little. The breath he takes is slower, calmer and he shakes his breath. ]

Sorry, I'm a mess. [ In more ways than one. ] Thank you.

[friendsfordinner]

[ Hickey gives Kieren a cavalier little shrug and a hint of a smile. God how he wants to pry. All of this is intensely interesting and he just wants to learn more. Why does Kieren think he'd hurt people? Is he immune to stabbing? What is this man's deal and can Hickey somehow manage to find a way to make it benefit him?

All sorts of things that he desperately wants to know. But we're not asking questions now. No, now's the time to provide support, show Kieren that he's here for him, take care of and support the man. Questions are later. ]

We're mates, [ he says, with a little nod. ] That's what mates do, yeah? Look out for each other. It's an unconventional request, but as far as I can see? This is an unconventional situation.