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

( The voice first comes to him at odd times throughout the day. Little whispers that don't seem much at first. Ken thinks, for a bit, he's just imagining things. This place is weird, maybe it's the lingering voices of all the not-ghosts. But it seems so ... Personal. When it speaks to him in the stillness of night, when he's alone in his room and ready to sleep, he knows it's not his imagination.

It's there for him, and it's not hard for it to convince him of his worthlessness or how he shouldn't be here. Ken knows his lot in life. He's a Ken doll. What good is he, truly, when he's no more than an accessory? Even worse, an unwanted accessory? He can't even do that right, let alone everything else, and he's pulling everyone around him down with his uselessness.

No, he knows he shouldn't be here. He knows he shouldn't be anywhere. Despite the late hour and the crisp, biting chill of the night, he's climbing out his bed to slip on his shoes. Mink and guitar left sitting on his bed (he won't bother anyone with a real goodbye), he goes, wandering aimlessly down the road that leads out of town. Ken doesn't know how long he's been walking when he comes up to the frozen lake, steps carrying him out further, the ice thinning beneath his feet as it promises to crack soon and plunge him into the cold depths. )

[ Bigby isn't really sleeping either. Maybe it's all the chaos lately - the sudden functionality of electronics around this place, the ghosts, the voices, the wolves.. maybe mostly the wolves in his own case, really.

It makes it hard to relax, and he also finds himself aimlessly wandering around the place at night, perhaps hoping that it's more useful than sitting inside and being unable to relax. Sure, it's very cold out, but at least he's got enough warm clothes at this point to not really worry about freezing to death.

Thinking about the wolves, he heads outside town to see if there's any still lingering around, but..

.. well, the shape out there on the ice sure doesn't look like a wolf. And the wolves would probably be smart enough to not go out on ice that can't carry their weight. No, that almost looks like--

A person?

Bigby frowns, raising his voice to yell out: ]

What the hell are you doing out there?!

[ Yes, dude, great idea. Startle someone standing out on literal ice. ]

( The voice does startle Ken, but only because it's definitely not the voice inside his head. That one he's a little used to by now, and he didn't expect anyone else to be out around this time.

Oh well. What does it matter, anyway? )

I'm going away!

( It's yelled back, just before Ken nearly slips on the ice. )

[ Bigby's already opening his mouth to call out towards the other guy - but that's right before he witnesses Ken nearly falling on the ice, making him swallow what he was about to say right back up.

Instead he shakes his head, focusing on the more urgent issue to address, which is: ]

You're just going to fall through the ice!

[ Does the other really not see that? It's somehow frustrating and worrying at the same time.

He steps forward, though not onto the ice. Instead Bigby goes as far as he can up to the edge of the lake while still standing on solid ground. ]

Do you want to die?! [ Maybe not.. the right thing to ask here, Bigby.. ]

Maybe!

( The concept of death is still very new to Ken. Mostly, he understands that being dead means you don't come back, and isn't that just easier for everyone? )

No one wants me around anyway!

...

[ Of all possible things to hear here, apparently this was the one Bigby didn't expect. The other guy looks a little too old for this, after all - even from a distance. It's the sort of thing Bigby would expect a moody teenager to say, not what seems like a grown man.

So even though he's still worried deep down, his outward look turns into something closer to exasperated than anything else. ]

Seriously? What are you throwing a fit over?

[ He's still not really helping, huh. But words aren't exactly Bigby's strong suit either. ]

It's not a fit!

( Said, very much, in the tone of one throwing a fit. Though the truth is that Ken's distressed, and having never had to feel any real distress at all let alone learn how to cope with it, this is the only way he can think of to react.

And being told it's just a fit doesn't do much to make him feel like this voice in his head might even be a little bit wrong. His whole posture seems to droop. He'd probably cry if his face wasn't so cold. )

[ It's definitely a fit.

Granted, this is all from Bigby's point of view - who has no idea what's going on in Ken's head. Maybe he could guess as to the voice that's going on, given that Bigby has heard it himself, but he's a little too distracted by Ken's behaviour to consider the logical option.

At least Bigby does know better than to insist it's a fit out loud. And while the easiest route here would be abandoning the guy out there on the ice, considering he's the one getting himself into trouble here in the first place, there's a part of Bigby just way too good to do that.

So despite already feeling himself growing exasperated with that part of himself, he exhales, then tries to calm down a little. ]

Alright. [ Sure, Ken. It's not a fit. He'll agree so for your sake. Out loud, anyway. ] Can you at least come over here so we can talk about what's going on then?

[ Yes, he does sound like he's trying to talk down a panicked dog who doesn't want to go to the vet.

This isn't Bigby's strong suit, alright. ]

Fine!

( Despite the petulance in his voice, Ken does, in fact, start making his way back to the shore and this person. It takes a bit of time, given the terrain, but he gets there after what seems almost painstakingly long for the short distance. )

[ Bigby releases a breath he didn't quite realise he was holding in. Yes, he was - is - rather frustrated by the other's decision to go out on the ice by himself, but at the same time he definitely was also worried about the idea of Ken falling through the ice.

Even if he'd never admit to the latter out loud. ]

Thanks.

[ It'd probably help if the 'thanks' didn't sound so sarcastic, given the tone Bigby is using here.. Apparently it would straight up kill this man to be genuine for once in his life. ]

Now explain to me what got you so bothered.

[The asset has been doing more night patrols, what with the wolves and the creepy voice telling him things he already knows. It doesn't upset him-- he's heard it all before, but he can't be useful if he dies, so he's not doing that-- but it is distracting.

Spotting somebody out on the ice is not reassuring. He breaks into a lope in that direction, and calls ahead,]

Careful! The ice is thin!

Good!

( That's really the point, isn't it? Go away, get lost, never come back. )

Just go away and leave me alone!

[The asset doesn't understand. Why would actual people want to die? Actual people don't want to die, they always scream and fight and run if they see him coming.

... maybe it's the same thing that made all the ghosts die and kill each other. Which means it isn't right, either.

He speeds up until he skids to the edge of the ice, worried about stepping on it and breaking it. He's... very heavy.]

It isn't real. Whatever is sending you out here. It isn't true.

( The good news is, Ken's stopped walking across the ice, having turned now to properly face the guy talking to him. The bad news is, he's not moving back towards the water's edge yet. )

Yes it is! It's all stuff people have already said, and they're not liars!

[The Asset shifts unhappily to his other foot. Maybe if he's quick enough, light enough on his feet, he won't break the ice...]

So what.

[They voice is also telling him things he already knew. But he doesn't get to make the choice about his own life. He knows that, too.]

But you can't be useful. Can't be better. If you don't even stay and try.

[He tests the edge of the ice with one boot.]

I am very heavy. I will try to come to you anyway if you don't come back this way, but I will probably break the ice if I try.

( Ken blinks a bit, feeling the frost on his eyelashes catch as he does it. It doesn't bother him because no one's ever said they'd do anything like that for him. Ken knows what happens when the ice breaks, Ken was sort of hoping it would happen to him, but why would anyone risk it all for him? Especially a total stranger? )

No - No, I can come back.

( He passes the sleeve of his coat over his eyes, rubbing at them a bit before starting to carefully walk his way back to the shoreline. He didn't even realize how far he'd walked out, or how cold it feels suddenly. )

Thank you.

[The Asset waits, watching closely, ready to lunge out and grab if the ice cracks. He even holds out his hand, the metal one though it's covered in a glove. Normally he's not one to touch people, but if it will get Ken off the ice faster, he'll do it.]

( It's slow going. The ice is much more slippery than it seemed to be when Ken walked out on it, his feet threatening to give out from under him more than once as he teeters his way towards the stranger. When he's close enough, he gladly grasps the extended hand to help pull himself to the safety of shore. )

Thanks. Thank you.

( Ken sniffs a little and glances back over his shoulder at the now ominous seeming expanse of ice. )

That was really scary, actually.

[The asset obligingly pulls Ken back onto solid ground the moment there's the ability to do so. Then he lets go promptly and steps back a little. Being close to people is-- uncomfortable.

He doesn't necessarily empathize, he's still working out emotions in general, but:]

It was dangerous. You shouldn't listen to that voice. It might be what made everyone else here kill themselves, too.

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extinction is the rule

the voice ✰

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