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

[questioningmermaids]

March grins.

"It's not bad, LA. Almost 3 million people now, I think. Excluding Long Beach, Santa Clarita... the rest of the county." This is boring, probably, but it's nice for March. He really, really misses it.

"Beaches and palm trees and none of this fucking snow. Cheap booze. No one giving you shit..." A beat. "Only some people giving you shit." And y yeah, he really misses it.

"What's Qinghe like? All that flowy fabric, it's gotta be nicer than this."

[fanoperator]

Huaisang cannot fathom that many people anywhere, much less in any one province. Three million, more than the stars in the sky. He's not sure he likes the sound of that, especially in addition to hot. But still, both things are an improvement on here.

"Qinghe is a mountain region, like this one but not as cold and snowy and dark." Huaisang puts down his pen as he speaks, a little lost in memory. "We have steel and silver mines, and hot springs, and my clan is very stern and strong and everything that I'm not, so nobody's happy that I'm now in charge, least of all me. Though I don't know what's happening without me. I ... I want to think that they're better off, but I'm afraid that there might be options worse than me."

He's sad and faraway as he speaks, suddenly looking like he's on the verge of tears.

[questioningmermaids]

Ah, he's done it again. March has got to stop stumbling into Huaisang's weak spots, especially now that he knows them a little better. He presses his lips into a thin line, tilts his head to the side, though he can't say he regrets learning about Qinghe. It sounds beautiful. LA can be nice, but mostly it's just convenient.

"Hey." Huaisang's staring off into the distance, and March shifts closer so he can wave the bottle in front of the other's face, their sides touching as he leans. An encouragement to drink: that solves everything March feels bad about, it should work with his new companion.

"The fact that you're worried about it at all is a sign you care. That's a step in the right direction. I'm sure it's fine. Tell me about the hot springs?"

[fanoperator]

Huaisang reaches gladly for the bottle. It's the right distraction, and he shares March's readiness to reach for liquor as the solution to all his problems. He sips and then hugs the bottle, deciding that March isn't getting it back. March doesn't appreciate the syrup.

"The hot springs are very nice. They run up through the mountain of Qinghe itself, which is part of the reason that the city was built there. Fresh spring water, and a source of heat. My family, over the generations, has built channels and pipes to direct the water. Most halls in the palace have hot or at least warm water to bathe in and there are several public pools available in the city. It's very nice."

Huaisang takes another sip and then sets the bottle down beside him on the couch, out of March's reach. "Go get something else from the stash downstairs. You can't have any more of this, you don't like it and I do. And I want to try it in the ka-fe with breakfast tomorrow. Go get something you like."

[questioningmermaids]

There we go. Distractions that also let March learn about Huaisang: a nice balance, and one he's decided he actually enjoys. He's comfortable now, tucked in with a blanket by the fire and leaning in and, more importantly, sharing a drink.

Except Huaisang seems to have other ideas, and March's brows knit in a familiar 'absolutely not' look that he's given most of the village at least once or twice.

"I don't want to move," he states plainly. Just because he doesn't like it doesn't mean he doesn't want to drink it, Huaisang. Even if he's already resiging himself to getting up because it's inevitable he's going to have to go into the basement. He can't say no to anyone with that much of an effective pout.

[fanoperator]

"I'll make it worth your while," Huaisang insists, taking back the blanket from over March's lap and leaving him cold. He hasn't fully decided how he'll make it worth March's while but at the very least he's planning to give him the bunny-girl sketch. "When there's something I don't like but you do, you can have all of it."

He blinks at March until he gets up, all earnest expectation that March will do as he's asked. (As he's told, actually, but Huaisang plans to keep up the puppy eyes to make up for the total lack of a 'please' involved with his decision.)

[questioningmermaids]

The blanket snatching earns a brief unamused yelp of surprise, high in pitch and in a staccato-like burst. To March's credit he lasts maybe 20 seconds, staring just as pointedly at Huaisang before he inevitably moves.

It's just that those eyes completely and utterly work. March isn't even sure why as he sighs and gets up, mumbling something about body heat before making his way down the stairs. The fact that the other hasn't even asked hadn't occurred to him, which is strange given the fact that he latches onto just about anything in order to complain.

He does, however, win: scotch, his favourite, and when he appears his eyebrows are sky-high.

"Taste test. Taste test," he repeats, waving the bottle in Huaisang's face before sitting back down. "This is my favourite."

[fanoperator]

Huaisang nestles close at once, tucking his knees up and leaning them against March's thigh. He tucks the blanket in around them both, making sure to get March nice and cozy to make up for kicking him out. He's finished his sketch, but he just sets that aside for now. March can have his rewards in a minute, once they're both settled and the drinking has resumed. "Good, I'm excited to try it. Tell me about it?"

[questioningmermaids]

"Scotch." It's said with warm reverence, and March carefully peels the top off, unscrewing the lid. "Whisky from Scotland. Made from Barley, I think. I just drink it. Captain used to have a bottle in his desk when I was on the force, took it out for special occasions. Uh--" He's trying to get better at explaining shit. March frowns.

"I guess, uh, when I was a city guard," He hopes to hell Huaisang has them in his world. Either way. He presses his lips into a thin line.

"I know. Hey. We should make this a special occasion. Like, do a toast."

[fanoperator]

As usual when March starts talking, Huaisang is completely lost. He blinks a few times, wide-eyed and earnest, but he's glad when March translates himself. "Oh! You were a city guard?" He would never have guessed. March doesn't share any traits with the city guards Huaisang has met. "I like toasts. Though I'm not getting up to get glasses." No, they will continue drinking straight out of the bottle like the barbarians they are, obviously.

[questioningmermaids]

"Glasses are for the weak," March agrees, and there's a small smile to that. Not that he thinks Huaisang is prim and proper by any means (though he did when they first met), but it's nice to have someone in the muck with him.

"What should we toast to? That's the real question."

[fanoperator]

"I don't know, you're the one with the toast idea. I thought you had something in mind." He's not at all sure how Machu intends to make a random tuesday afternoon in an abandoned house in snow hell into a 'special occasion', but he's not about to rain on the parade if there's any possibility of fun. "To porn."

[questioningmermaids]

"I never have anything in mind," March confesses, and it's only half true. He can be motivated when he needs to be--just because he has a lack of follow through doesn't mean he can't formulate a plan. Mostly.

Huaisang's comment makes him smile, though, and he nods.

"To porn," he agrees, and lifts his bottle.

[fanoperator]

Huaisang waits for him to drink, then reaches for the bottle so he can try it. He blinks in pleased surprise as he tastes it, immediately taking another sip before handing it back, mulling the second sip in his mouth before swallowing. "It's very good. I've never had anything like it before. It's so strong. Like the strongest wine I've ever tasted."

It's very impressive to him. The variety of alcohol available in this place is wondrous to him, especially the very strong alcohol. "What do you want for your reward?"

[questioningmermaids]

A slow, surprisingly soft grin spreads across March's face as he watches Huaisang, listens to him--partially because it's interesting to have someone try something for the first time, to introduce someone to something, but he's finding himself oddly flattered, too.

Best not examine that too much. He grabs the bottle back gently, settling in a little more. It's his turn to be contemplative.

"My reward, huh?" Best not to examine his feelings on that, either. March sniffs, leaning back. "What about some of your art?"

[fanoperator]

"Yes, I was planning on giving you the bunny girl drawing," Huaisang says, with a shrug. "But you can ask for more than that, if you want. You were very brave. And you're helping to keep me warm."

Huaisang tilts his head a little in thought, not wanting to scandalize his friend--but March is very enthusiastic about porn, so he can't be that easily scandalized. "I'll give you a handjob, or a blowjob, if you want."