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

[birkenstock]

[ Relieved that he agrees, she feels much safer already and makes for a slow trek towards the aforementioned building with the green walls as directed. ]

Oh, it is fascinating. [ She nods, decidedly keeping her gaze away from the sky in order to avoid looking into those fearful visions again. They don't seem a whole lot like soul-stuff, at least not the way this man is explaining it to her.

But then again: what does she know to even make a comparison? She's never had a soul ... not until now? Maybe? (Actually she still isn't sure where she can position herself on this spiritual spectrum, but those existential questions can wait for a moment. It's probably something she should have asked Ruth, but how does one even prepare for this kind of a moment?) ]

How did you learn about all of this? Are there ... experts in souls? Do they have soulsight?

[aetherialshackles]

[He does his best to offer a reassuring smile while opening the door to the building. It's probably just in time since the apparitions are moments from falling dead once more and restarting the loop. Time for more distracting talks, mostly to avoid her further distress. The man glances up, following her gaze, and keeps chattering]

It truly is, right? Who even knows what our colors are?

[He certainly has no idea, Erichthonios never exactly left the facility where he was raised, after all, and it wasn't like he had anyone with soulsight around there. He could tell different people had different aether -spiritual energy- when it was used, because it was visible to the naked eye of... pretty much anyone, and that was it.

He stepped in, making room for her pass and nodding in the nearest couch's direction.] Want to make yourself comfortable? If the Aurora lasts like every other time, we still have hours before things will change. I can go grab a blanket from one of the bedrooms. Whoever lived here... well, either they left before things went sour or were outside when everything happened. You should be.. safe.

[Not that the apparitions tried to hurt anyone, they merely just kind of existed, but he was perfectly aware that this kind of things could hurt feelings as well. Now, he could only hope they weren't some kind of permanent fixture in the city, it almost made him glad he picked a house in the outskirts right now.]

Well, back where I come from, Soul Studies are a thing. Some lucky people are able to see souls, other rarer ones can even interact with them. It's... something completely out of my reach, I never had magical access, but it is something heavily documented where I come from.

[birkenstock]

Well, I hope mine's pink.

[ It would only be fitting, and it's the colour she's most comfortable with at the end of the day. It defines her somehow, it's the colour of Barbieland, and it reminds her of her past life. The one before she decided to become a human, and the one before she wound up here.

She nods at his suggestion now, moving into the living room and studying the space from where she is before she finds the couch. ]

Thank you — [ she says gratefully, because a blanket does sound like a lovely idea, and in this house she can't make out any of the haunting visions that fill the skies and seizes something awful in her heart. ] What do the souls say when they're spoken with? I'd imagine it wouldn't be anything happy.

[ Regrets, maybe. Anxieties. All of that awful stuff. ]

[aetherialshackles]

Well, it is said that souls do reflect who we are and what we love more in life so... if your favorite color is pink, perhaps your soul does reflect that.

[Small talks, really, because the woman could probably use some kind of distraction. Notebook and pencils are placed all near the entrance, to make sure he wasn't going to forget them there. It wasn't like he has much data to work with, but it was better than nothing.]

Well...

[He moved in one of the small rooms, taking the blanket away directly from the bed and bringing the heavy and warm thing to Barbie.]

From the little I know: it depends. Some people say they carry over the last feelings they had when someone passed ans since between my people it almost always was a joyous occasion- [This before the world ended, but he's not bringing that up.] I like to think they carry joy with them before returning to the star and entering the cycle of life and death once more. Imagine, finishing your path, taking the time to rest and heal from anything that hurt you and having the opportunity to restart an entire journey on the star... it must be lovely!

Those you see around the city are more echoes than actual souls... so, please, don't consider them too much. I'm... almost certain they don't actually feel anything, just repeat like a song that's stuck on loop.

[birkenstock]

[ She takes the blanket with another grateful nod, before taking it over to the couch and draping herself with it. It's already immediately comforting, and it's nice and heavy like a hug. She sinks into it and feels her anxieties already slowly begin to wash away. ]

Oh. [ Truthfully she isn't sure she fully understands what he's talking about, especially when the concept of death itself is still ... well, it's new. She's never thought about what happens when you die until she suddenly did, and now it's pretty much all she can think about, even with her severe lack of understanding of it all. ] I guess a soul's journey does sound kind of nice.

So these echoes ... how do they usually ... go away? Or do they stay forever? Will these ones stay forever?

[aetherialshackles]

[He takes place on the couch as well, on the opposite side in order to respect her personal space. He wraps his arms around his knees, not really caring if he's staining the couch with his boots, and lets out a small sigh. He cannot quite relax, not knowing that this may be an extremely important event to learn more about the place, but does he really want to just.. sit outside to look at the same people die over and over?

Anyway, in the darkness of the house, Barbie will probably be able to notice that Erich's red eyes do seem to shine on their own, like there's a faint red light behind the iris. For the rest he's the most unremarkable lanky guy.]

It is nice, or so I have been told. When your body is tired, you just go to sleep, right? It's the same, just on a larger scale. And then when you are ready, you step up again and begin walking once more. [He offers her a smile. He just... will not think of how 'death' turned into a very different thing in the last days he spent in his world. From a 'choice' his non aging kin took to restart a new life to... well, the creatures that came from their nightmares were far from kind. No need to dwell on that, though.] In a certain sense your story never ends, it's kind of sweet, isn't it?

Ah... well, if they're just echoes they should disappear. The simple fact they're manifesting themselves means they're burning energy, and either they're powered by someone or something or they'll just... run out of it? I do not completely understand how this world works, but I can at least talk from what's my knowledge.

[birkenstock]

[ Oh, that is interesting. She's never seen anyone's eyes glow ever-so-slightly before, certainly not red, and certainly not like there's some kind of a light behind them.

But it's rude to stare, and they're talking about other things, and so she'll keep that little observation to herself ... and bring it up some other time. More naturally. Barbie is nothing if not polite, at least. ]

I really feel like I don't know anything about this sort of thing. [ She sighs. ] But if they run out of energy, and they're bound to eventually fade, then this won't be forever, right? Maybe they'll ... be put to rest? Like the sleep you mentioned earlier?

[ Only maybe more permanent. ]

[aetherialshackles]

[It's just one of the little many things that can tell apart his kin from others, not really anything that gives him any advantage of any sort. Quite the contrary, probably, since hiding in the shadows would be difficult with, well, them.

He does take his boots off, sliding his feet under the tunic and hugging his own knees on the couch, trying to stay as warm as possible.]

I... think that's the norm? Not many people beside scholars invest too much on the study of souls, after all. So don't worry about this, I'll be glad to share what I know, at least. [A pause as he looks outside the window for a moment] I... don't think those images you see need to be put to rest. I may be wrong, mind you, but... oh, right. Imagine them as echoes.

Sound energy is a form of energy that can be heard by living things, it's energy that slowly depletes every times it bounces against something and keeps going only as long as the waves are strong enough. You were the source of voice, but the sounds that come back aren't you. That's what I think those are. Just a different kind of energy.

[A pause before trying to offer her a reassuring smile]

Hopefully their actual souls already found peace.