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]

[ Barbie nods the affirmative to his question, rubbing at her arms a little, and offering her best smile to reassure him that she is, indeed, telling the truth.

Because she could be worse, but she isn't because he's here and he seems to have a much better idea of how to handle the creatures on the other side of the door than she ever could. The occasional shaking of the door and the growls and groans from the other side do continue to rattle her, but she's doing her absolute best to ignore it.

She finds a nearby flat surface to perch herself against for a moment instead, because her knees feel like they just might jitter her all the way through the floor. ]

I'm all right, thank you. And you — you're wonderful. [ Because unlike him, Barbie has no problems doling out compliments or gratitude when it suits. ] I don't know what I would have done if you didn't find me when you did. Or know how to keep those wolves away.

[bigbaddy]

[ Her reply gets the man to have a bit of an odd expression on his face for a moment. It'd almost be comical, were the situation not so dangerous. The wolves are still howling right outside the door, and yet for a moment Bigby just looks.. kind of too baffled to speak in the face of the compliment. Despite the man's gruff face, he looks almost shy, for lack of a better term.

Especially since he does avoid direct eye contact with Barbie for a moment, and then clears his throat in a clear attempt to regain some of his composure.

(Look, when you're used to hearing nothing but insults for ages, what do you do when you get such a strong compliment out of the blue? Bigy doesn't know.) ]

's fine. [ He half-mumbled, before trying to strengthen his voice again as he continues, trying to seem a little less awkward or weak. ] This is my job.

[ A slight pause, and then he remembers-- ]

Though I hope being played with isn't yours. [ And then for a very normal question that's actually only normal to literally just their worlds: ] Are you some sort of puppet?

[ Look.

He knows Pinocchio, okay. ]

[birkenstock]

[ Oh, no — cute! Except that Barbie remains completely and delightfully unaware, her expression still as pleasant as she can keep it in light of everything going on. She watches him for a moment, and then she glances back towards the closed door and the wooden cabinet currently blocking the path, and she really hopes those wolves will grow bored soon and find something else to occupy their time.

Something a little less ... murdery. ]

Oh, no, being played with wasn't my job. My job was just ... I guess being Stereotypical. [ She's going to make absolutely no sense, sorry Bigby. ] And then I found that I didn't like that at all, so ... I changed my path.

But I'm not a puppet, I'm a doll. Or I was a doll. You've ... never heard of Barbie before?

[bigbaddy]

[ There sure is some quick-fire thinking going on in Bigby's mind right now. The way she's saying that makes it sound like she's a Fable, and Bigby can't quite decide if he's just mistaken about that or if he just doesn't remember her or her story.

.. on the other hand, if she was a Fable, surely she'd at least recognize him, right? Bigby might hate his reputation, but that's exactly because it makes him so recognizable.

So he just takes the safe route. Not saying anything about all that, but sticking to: ]

No.

[ -- the honest answer. ]

Is that strange? [ The safer question, even with wolves still at the door. ]

[birkenstock]

[ Alas! Not a Fable, though her story really could slot in rather nicely alongside all of the other fairytales.

And whether that's a good or bad thing remains to be seen, but at the moment Barbie finds that she feels rather safe around Bigby. ]

Oh, it would be if you were from my world. Everyone knows who Barbie is. Barbie changed — well, Barbie was supposed to change the world, inspire little girls everywhere that they could do or be anything they wanted.

But no — I guess it's not really strange anymore.

[bigbaddy]

.. but you didn't want to do that.

[ He can at least grasp that much from putting together what she's telling him now with what she said a moment ago - even if he's not exactly sure what she meant. It sounds kind of negative, after all, putting it like that.

But Bigby is well aware there could be more to it. After all, if anyone understands not really wanting to fulfill a very specific role anymore, it's him.

Maybe it's why his voice lacks judgement as he voices that line, still looking at her. Only casting an occasional glance at the door to make sure their makeshift barricade is still holding. ]

[birkenstock]

I don't know what I want.

[ That's the truth of it in the end. She has inklings of what she'd rather do or rather be, but it's ... complicated. She'd made the first step to stop being a doll, and to leave Barbieland, but the rest ...? Well. It's still more questions than answers, and she's still working through it. It's not a bad thing, though. ]

But no ... I don't think I wanted to keep being that idea.

[ She offers him a smile, a little apologetic. ]

I know none of this makes much sense — I'm still trying to figure all of it out. Or I was until I wound up here.

[bigbaddy]

[ The man huffs. ]

It probably makes more sense than you think.

[ Sure, with Bigby lacking knowledge of what exactly Barbie is, it's not like he can understand every single nuance at play here. But he's got a pretty good idea all the same, because some parts of her experience ring pretty true to his own, or stuff some Fables had to deal with in general. ]

In fact, I'm a little surprised. Here I was assuming that everyone here was more or less just some normal m-- human. [ Sure, that gets a little dangerously close to revealing his Fable secret and all, and usually Bigby is the one who's getting onto other people's cases for threatening to give it away.

But if Barbie also clearly is not just a mundy, then surely it can't hurt to say this much. ]

But I guess people aren't always what they seem.

[birkenstock]

[ Barbie hums a thoughtful sound. ]

I think you're right.

[ She's slowly beginning to learn that the people who have arrived here come in all sorts of shapes, sizes, and histories. Some even have powers, which she's certainly never seen before in her life. And why would she? She's from a land of perfect, plastic beautiful dolls having the same perfect day every single day, forever. ]

But I'm flattered you think I was just a normal, regular person.

[ Maybe she's finally getting the hang of it all. Slowly but surely. ]

What about you? Are you just a normal human?

[bigbaddy]

[ .. it's a good question. Not because he doesn't know the answer for sure, but because he isn't sure whether to share it or not. He's supposed to help protect the secret, after all.

But no one's ever told him what to do in a situation where he isn't surrounded by just mundies. Or so far away from Fabletown. Would it really kill anyone if a person representing some idea as a doll from another world knew? .. Probably not, right?

So even though the man visibly waffles for a moment or two, he then slowly speaks up. ]

Where you come from.. Do they have stories? Especially the ones known as fairytales?