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]

[ Kieren does look like he might yell at him, or certainly chide him. He's no stranger to blaring heavy metal being blasted in the near vicinity. Having a younger sister who listens to nothing but helps one build a tolerance for it. It does spook him somewhat, considering there's a certain level of hush that comes with this place. And despite himself, he does go out looking to see what the hell's going on.

It's not like he was sleeping much anyways. He was trying to, but there's so much noise and light to do it. Being kept perpetually on edge is exhausting, but it does keep him awake. ]

Well, I didn't think 'middle of the night metal concert' was on my bingo card for this frozen hellscape. [ Surprises come at every corner. ] You do realise you've probably either scared the shit out of or pissed off the entire town, yeah?

[ He raises his eyebrows at him. Yes, he's being The Sensible One. ... He already feels like his Mum right now. ]

[satanicpanics]

What was on your bingo card? Country and western?

[ He grins and without missing a beat, shifts to the jangling opening chords of Marty Robbins’ Big Iron. He has a clear preference for metal, but he loves music more than almost anything in the world, so there’s far more in his repertoire than he lets on. ]

Yeah, ordinarily I’d have waited til sunrise--you know, at least until the old fogies wake up, but I didn’t wanna risk missing the power while we had it.

[ He doesn’t believe this sudden burst of working electricity is going to last, but he’s going to make the most of it while it does. He’s convinced most of them don’t sleep so well anyway, so he doesn’t feel like he’s really disrupting anyone’s sleep. ]

Besides, they’re gonna wake up eventually, and what better wakeup call than a little Metallica?

[burying]

More like Icelandic folk, considering this place.

[ It would be incredibly on the nose, but it would it would make sense. This entire town wouldn't look out of place in some sad, heart-felt music video. Still he has to laugh, shaking his head a little. ]

I guess you have a point, weeks without power and now there's— [ He lifts his head to the skies, the Aurora droning, buzzing and crackling above them. Yeah, it's pretty spooky. ]

Believe me, I've had too many wakeup calls to Metallica. [ There's a beat, before he adds. ] My sister. I made her one mix CD. Just a load of heavy rock and punk and metal, and I don't think our parents have ever forgiven me for it.

[ The old fogies will come for you, Eddie. Kieren can't save you now. ]

[satanicpanics]

You know, I actually don’t know any Icelandic folk. Truth be told, I think the most exotic thing the states ever got is like…ABBA.

[ All that Scandinavian metal hasn’t quite worked its way over the pond just yet, but Eddie would probably love it if he ever got to hear it. It’s just up to someone else to introduce it to him, and for this world to provide.

He follows Kieren’s gaze to the aurora above them and tilts his head, considering it for a moment. ]

Yeah, that’s pretty weird, huh? You think it’s gonna stop at some point, or…?

[ It is awfully loud, and as beautiful as the colors are, it’s incredibly off-putting in almost a menacing way. But then Kieran mentions a mix CD, and all he can do is grin, because that sounds like literally the best thing in the world. ]

Sounds like my kind of mix.

[burying]

Not even Of Monsters and Men? I feel like everyone's heard of them these days. [ But honestly, Little Talks kind of slaps. One of the things that's been pretty nice is catching up on the music he missed out on the past few years. But also, not realising he's speaking to someone who isn't even from the same time as him. ]

I mean, they're supposed to. We sometimes get them in the UK, if you're far north enough. But... I think they're only supposed to last a little while.

[ Not..... this. And he didn't think they'd be this... loud, either. He does think it's really pretty, though. He'd like to paint it, maybe. Or try to. ]

It's all Jem listens to now. You'd probably get on with her, with the exception of the fact she's... absolutely terrifying. [ Said with a great deal of affection. He can't help but smile a little. ] She, uh. She had this thing... just after she started secondary school. Thought she was strange, didn't want to be noticed. So I made her the CD and I knew it would do the trick, it helped her.

[ There's a little pang. Man, he misses Jem right now. There's a little exhale and he anxiously rubs his hands on the sides of his thighs. ]

Do you.. have siblings?

[satanicpanics]

Nope. Must not have made it over to the states yet.

[ He’s well aware of the timeline shenanigans going on. Steve being a full year behind him opened his mind to that possibility, and while it’s upsetting, but not particularly strange on top of everything else. His mind doesn’t immediately go that explanation, though. There’s plenty of music out there that he hasn’t heard, as much as he hates to admit it. ]

Yeah, I don’t think we’re far enough north in Indiana. But I have a friend, Gareth—yeah, he swears he saw them once. Personally, I think it was an attempted alien abduction and they thew him right back, but….

[ He snorts, and as much shit as he tends to talk about his friends, it’s all with a deep level of fondness. He doesn’t miss Hawkins, not by any stroke of the imagination, but he misses the band and Hellfire and his uncle and, hell, he even misses when Steve Harrington knew who he was. ]

You kidding me? Strange people are the interesting ones. Speaking from experience, obviously. Sure hope she got over that little hang-up.

[ Because Eddie likes to be noticed. He likes being the center of attention to the point that he purposefully riles people up. What do you think this entire concert is about? Attention. That and it amuses him to piss the older folks off. ]

Yeah, uh…maybe somewhere? “Papa was a rolling stone” and all that shit.

[ He really wouldn’t doubt if he has some half siblings out there somewhere. He can’t even remember the last time he talked to his dad though—his first senior year, maybe, and there’s certainly no love lost there. It’s been awhile. ]

But as far as I’m aware? I am currently the last of the Munson line.