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

B

[bigbaddy]

The ghosts are so eerie.

In a way that's almost odd. After all, Bigby is surrounded by beings like this every day back home - even if most don't exactly look like it anymore. But despite seeing all of them as humans every day, it's not like Bigby hasn't remembered his time before Fabletown, before New York, before the mundy world. He remembers being surrounded by supernatural beings of all kinds, even some ghosts included.

But these are so different. They're not even really people anymore. Instead they almost seem more like echoes of pain, doomed to repeat the same horrible things over and over. They don't even seem to react to them, they just suffer.

It's why Bigby tries to not bother. He tries to ignore them, even when some of the scenes are truly grotesque in their own way.

.. but it's also why he gets why some people might have a harder time looking away. He approaches Rorschach from behind while the other is staring at the lover-suicide, speaking up in his usual gruff voice. ]

It's probably better not to look.

cw: internalized homophobia

[moralabsolutism]

Rorschach looked over at the scruffy man who had spoken. The inkblots of his mask shifted, moving from the center of the mask off towards the cheeks and stretching up towards his forehead.

"Hard not to." It was like a car crash. He kept wanting to look away but it was so damn hard. There was a lot of thoughts running through Rorschach's head. He wondered what would drive a person to commit such a dark act as killing someone they clearly loved so much. Was it evil to kill someone if you were doing it to save them from an even worse fate? Such grey thoughts were things he didn't like to dwell on.

Could he have done that to someone he loved? Then again, had Rorschach ever even loved anyone that much in a romantic sense? There was Daniel but....he refused to give into that line of thinking because that was a wrong, immoral thought and tried to quash it back down. It had cropped up many times over the years even if he refused to ever indulge it for more than a minute or two at a time.

[bigbaddy]

Under different circumstances the man's face - or, well, more like face situation, considering that mask - would have been eerie too. But considering some of the stuff Bigby is used to, whatever the other has got going on isn't too strange to him. Seems like the standard of some random Fables off their glamour, honestly.

It sure doesn't feel as important to address in the light of their current situation, anyway. Not with all these damn ghosts around.

"Yeah, but it's bound to drive someone insane." Especially if you see the same cycle often enough - which is very easy, considering how quickly they seem to repeat. Over, and over, and over. "Better to ignore them, or maybe instead to figure out what the hell is going on that they're suddenly haunting the place."

[moralabsolutism]

Joke's on you, Bigby. Rorschach had already been insane for years. There wasn't much left that could drive him even crazier. He tore his attention away from the spectacle as it began to play out again and instead focused on the scruffy fellow he was talking to.

"Been putting together the pieces of this place," Rorschach said. He'd been scribbling away anything that seemed important in his journal, looking for patterns or connections to the way things had been going on in the town.

[bigbaddy]

".. yeah?"

There's some faint scepticism to it, but it's only faint. It's more just Bigby's baseline level of it, ever present, even though he technically has no reason to doubt this other guy.

Doesn't mean he isn't still willing to actually hear him out. Especially when Bigby would love to find a way home sometime soon. Not even because of how wild this place is starting to get, but more just because he has shit to do there. Because he doesn't have the time to waste around here.

"What have you figured out so far then?"

[moralabsolutism]

He pulled out a good-sized leather journal from the inside of his trench coat. (Where had he even been keeping that thing?) Flipping through it purposefully until he came to some recent entries, he looked for the scribbles he'd written down which were practically illegible to anyone but himself.

"Ratio of men to women is nearly three to one. Odd." Putting aside Rorschach's own personal skewed misogynistic thinking on the roles of men and women in society, there was would there be significantly more of one gender than the other in the town?

[bigbaddy]

Bigby doesn't really do as much as blink in the face of the other just pulling that huge journal out. It's the upside of being used to Fabletown - and even moreso the Homelands before that, really. Seeing stuff like this is totally normal to him.

And it at least doesn't require as much thought as the weird ghosts people all over town. He's basically required to think at least a little bit about those, in case they might contain some sort of clue about this place. Or even a way back home.

While he isn't sure this is what is going to lead them back home, the man does blink with some faint surprise when Rorschach reads out that observation.

"Really?" Apparently Bigby hadn't spotted it himself yet, but it seems like an innocent enough observation that he doesn't question it, instead just taking it as fact. "I guess that could be a coincidence though, right? It's not like there's tons and tons of people out here."

It's not exactly New York City, for one.

[moralabsolutism]

"No such thing as coincidences," Rorschach with conviction. That was his usual paranoia talking. He was a man who saw patterns in everything, even where there genuinely was nothing there to see. It hadn't been so bad when he was in his twenties and just starting out as a vigilante but it had taken a turn for the worst in his thirties, just getting worse and worse over the past ten years.

He looked at something else he'd written on the same page. "Also noticed lack of kids," he said. "Seen only one under the age of about fifteen." That had been Number Five, though Rorschach still had yet to talk to the kid, but that had been the only one he'd taken note of.

[bigbaddy]

Okay, the lack of kids is definitely much stranger. It seems much more intentional.

And it also makes the mention of one kid stand out. Especially as Bigby tries to think about whether he's seen anyone that young, and he's pretty sure he hasn't, even though he's been all over town already in the past. It makes him frown, wondering if he's missed anything.

They can speculate about the kids thing in a moment, but now he first has to ask: "What did the kid look like?"

[moralabsolutism]

Rorschach thought about who he had seen in the Community Hall. "About thirteen or fourteen. Dark hair, dark eyes. Maybe my height or a little shorter. Looked a bit pissed off to be stuck here." He couldn't blame the kid for that. Rorschach wasn't exactly thrilled to be stuck in what he thought was an icy version of Hell.

"Didn't catch his name." Then again, Rorschach had only learned the name of like three people total in town. A lack of names helped to keep from getting too personal with them all. Rorschach was determined to keep from forming bonds with people at all costs.

[bigbaddy]

"Ah, I think I know who you're talking about."

The description might have been vague enough if they were discussing a more general category, but considering there aren't exactly a whole lot of people who look that age in this place, Bigby is pretty sure that confirms they were thinking of the same person.

"He's actually fifty-eight," the man says, with.. well, a totally calm tone. Like this is just a very normal thing to say about someone who definitely looks much younger than that.

Really, it would be enough to make a person from a more normal place than where Bigby comes from think he's just falling for the fabrications of a kid.

"So that might mean there's no kids that young whatsoever here."

[moralabsolutism]

"Uh-huh." Rorschach said in such a dry tone that it was impossible to tell if he actually believed Bigby or not. He'd seen a lot of weird shit in his life but hearing someone who looked like he hadn't even fully gone through puberty yet was fifty-eight was a new one for him.

"No innocents then." Once again, the idea that this place might have been some icy Hell or Purgatory was put into the forefront of his mind. Maybe they were all here to be punished for something.

[bigbaddy]

The man lets out a huff of agreement, apparently not too bothered by the other's dry tone. Really, it's not like Bigby hasn't dealt with mundies before and the way they're so sceptical of these sorts of things. Even if the other sure doesn't look like a mundy with that mask.

"No innocents," he says, apparently that being the part he's agreeing with. "Guess that means that whatever is dragging people here is conscious on some level, if it's being selective about who to bring here."

Like Rorschach pointed out, statistically speaking it'd be pretty impossible for all of them to have randomly ended up here, and yet not even one young child.

[moralabsolutism]

"Maybe we're in Hell," Rorschach said as a completely serious suggestion.

That would explain the lack of kids. Children were innocent. Adults, no matter how compassionate, kind, and generally good they were always had skeletons in their closets. And God only knew Rorschach had a lot of bodies in his past. Enough he was sure he wasn't going to Heaven if there was such a place.

[bigbaddy]

".. don't you have to die to go to hell?"

Granted, Bigby isn't particularly religious. In fact, he's not religious in the slightest, especially given what he is..

But it's not like he doesn't know a thing or two about mundy beliefs ever since being stuck in their world, and he's pretty sure that's how they think it works.

And while Bigby is unsure of a lot of things here, he's at least pretty sure he didn't die.

[moralabsolutism]

"Could've. And just not known it." Rorschach hadn't been dead as far as he knew before he came here but perhaps he simply didn't remember his own ending. If Ozymandias pulled off just whatever it was he had planned to destroy the world, maybe it had taken care of Nite Owl and Rorschach even after they were on his way to stop him.

[bigbaddy]

Sheesh, Rorschach, you're real fun at parties, aren't you.

Not that Bigby has any legs to stand on when it comes to judging that particular thing, but at least he hasn't suggested 'maybe we're all dead and just don't know it' yet. Thankfully Bigby is the type who can handle that kind of statement, but he sure can imagine some people here in town freaking out at the words.

He himself instead only seems sceptical.

"Surely you'd know if you'd die."

He means that for both him and Rorschach too! Bigby is pretty sure he'd know it if he was dead, and surely Rorschach has got a good enough head - there.. is a head in that weird mask, right? - on his shoulders to be able to tell the same.

"It's no small thing."

[moralabsolutism]

"Depends on what is running this place." Rorschach looked up as if something would make itself known when he said that.

But nothing did.

He was slowly forming his theories about this place. If it was some all-powerful deity, he wouldn't have put it past them to erase the last few hours of their memories if indeed they had died, whether to spare them trauma or for their own amusement. Then again maybe it was just aliens. Those always stood out for a good theory when it came to conspiracies.

[bigbaddy]

"Yeah?"

Bigby isn't sure whether that really matters. What could kill you without making you realise you were dead? He's encountered a whole lot of different kinds of death back home, and a whole lot of people with weird powers, but even he isn't sure if something could be that subtle.

Not that he sounds like he's disagreeing out loud. He doesn't want to have a dumb argument about it when neither of them can prove their own point for sure under the current circumstances.

No, it might be better to find out a little bit more about what this odd guy is made of, exactly.

"And what do you think could be running this place?"

[moralabsolutism]

"God." He paused, thinking of Doctor Manhattan and how the (former) man had come to view the humans around him as more like fascinating little insects to watch and amuse himself with what they did. That was what having godlike powers did to a person.

"Or something that thinks it's a god," he said, offering up another theory. If the blue superhero could have gathered up a bunch of human beings and dropped them in the middle of nowhere to see what would happen as a social experiment just because he could, Rorschach had no doubt that he would have. But this didn't seem his style. Doctor Manhattan was a little more flashy in what he did. Unless he was just waiting to reveal himself.

Hmmm....he'd have to investigate this further when he had the time...