methuselah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
singmod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singillatim2023-09-09 11:30 pm
singmod) wrote in singillatim2023-09-09 11:30 pm
Entry tags:
- *event,
- barbie: zelly,
- bigby wolf: jelle,
- bucky barnes: gail,
- callisto: iddy,
- castiel: noodle,
- clayton epps: thalia,
- cornelius hickey: kates,
- din djarin: cosmo,
- eddie munson: hannah,
- edward kenway: effy,
- edward little: jhey,
- erichthonios: fey,
- grace marks: bobby,
- harry goodsir: karin,
- holland march: chase,
- joel miller: noodle,
- kate marsh: cheryl,
- ken: laus,
- kieren walker: cheryl,
- levi jordan: cirape,
- max briest: justine,
- mohinder suresh: anna,
- nie huaisang: marlowe,
- nikolai lantsov: eden,
- number five: kayla,
- remy "thirteen" hadley: kaye,
- rorschach: shade,
- roy kent: cathy,
- simon "ghost" riley: milk,
- steve harrington: katy,
- takashi shirogane: terra,
- thomas richardson: beth,
- vash the stampede: fen,
- zoey westen: bri
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
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.
1. Due to the Aurora's influence, these wolves are harder,
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.
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.
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.
no subject
[ That's only a tiny bit of existential panic. There's also what's becoming familiar: March looks at Kieren like he’s grown three heads once more, but he decides to cut it short and move behind the other so he can get a better angle at what he’s looking at. Or what he's supposed to be looking at. One hand steadies himself on the desk as he leans forward, squinting. ]
A box? What are you–what is this? I feel like a jackass. Thought it was a TV. Are these words?
[ He is absolutely doing the dad thing and asking very obvious questions. Of course those are words. They can both read. March decides to point anyway, finger tapping the monitor. ]
no subject
[ Silver... linings? Impressive work for a pessimist. ]
It's— it's a monitor. It basically works like a TV, I suppose. This whole thing it's showing is the desktop. [ His hand moves to the mouse and with a wiggle of it, he moves the cursor around on the screen. ] You basically just... click around to do what you want.
[ He opens up the internet browser, but it fails to load: YOU ARE NOT CONNECTED TO THE INTERNET. Kieren's mouth twists. ]
Either the wires are too fried, or... there's just like, no internet. At all.
no subject
March sets a hand on his shoulder and leans down, brows furrowed, upper lip slightly curled into a very serious ‘i am trying to learn’ pose. ]
What’s the internet?
no subject
It's... like a— [ Oh, Christ. How does he describe the internet—? Does anyone actually know what the internet even is? It isn't even something you can touch, it's just... there. ]
A network—? I guess. Connecting the whole world. [ That kind of sounds right?? ] You can do things on it. Read, listen to music, watch videos, talk to people, buy things.
no subject
But: kid. Computer. Internet. March smacks the other’s shoulder, a friendly clap that can only be described as dad-like as he decides to wander over to something he actually understands. ]
You see all the ghosts around? I think I may have done that.
no subject
'You see all the ghosts around? I think I may have done that.'
His eyelids flutter, and he shakes his head a little — not comprehending as he looks over to him. Did he just say... he thinks he's responsible for the ghosts...? ]
... Sorry, what?
no subject
[ March is by a few ledgers, extremely causal about his firm belief that this is entirely his fault. He swipes a finger down a spine of book, deems it interesting enough to take out, and gives it a soft tug to do just that. It's dusty. March coughs. ]
Because of the demon voice. I disturbed their slumber--think, uh, this is probably the reckoning. [ He frowns. ]
Think I should apologize to everyone? Like it's not like I knew what I was doing at the time, so. Personally I feel like I'm in the clear.
no subject
[ Kieren just... kind of freezes. What? Demon voice? Disturbing slumbers? He's staring in horror, slack-jawed for a long moment — not entirely sure if he's supposed to believe him or not, given with how casual he's talking about it all.
Is he... talking about... that voice, the one they've all heard...? ]
Wait, do you mean the one we heard when we first came here? The one that's— [ The one that's been in his head lately? His mouth clamps shut and he frowns. ]
no subject
[ There's a more pressing matter, though, because shit. Now he's gotta do the right thing. He spares another quick glance at Kieren, not wanting to spook him, and keeps his voice as casual as possible. ]
You're talking about the other one, right? The-- [ a quick tap to his forehead, expression as neutral as his posture before his hands land back on his hips. He curves into another understatement, just to try to read Kieren's face as he says it. ] --the one that's tellin' you the shitty stuff?
no subject
Yeeeah, no. I don't think that's— [ Well shit, who knows in this place? ] ... Are you sure it wasn't just... a person? I mean, if you were outside making a racket, I'd just presume it was a pissed off neighbour.
[ Or that's what Kieren thinks at any rate. But the question stops any further pondering and he sinks into looking uncomfortable, nodding stiffly as he looks down at the computer again. Yeah, that one. ]
Seems kind of determined to make us all public enemy number one.
no subject
[ Kieren has him thinking, though. He reaches into his suit --after the trouble of unzipping the parka and whatnot--and reaches not for his gun neatly in its harness but instead for a notepad he keeps in the hidden breast pocket, frowning. He's flipping through the pages, voice casual. ]
You get good at tuning it out though, it's not so bad-- [ he's flipping through his notes. Scribbles of words as he flicks through appear, all different pen colours, an atrocious drawing, until--
March frowns. Freezes in place, staring straight ahead at what he'd written. Evidentially, what he'd been looking for. ]
You might be onto something with the whole neighbour comment, though.
no subject
[ Sometimes it still just feels too raw. Sometimes it's reminding him in every sickening detail the things he did to Lisa, and the promise he'll do it again here. Wouldn't it be better to just... not be here, instead?
In the meantime, Kieren's going to busy himself with the computer to distract himself. He starts by seeing if he can bring up the email client. Surely something will load, even it's offline. Fortunately, the password to the email is very conveniently sticky-noted to the computer screen. Guess someone wasn't great remember passwords.
And he does get something to load up. He starts clicking through, looking to see what's going on. Admittedly it's... pretty boring. Delayed deliveries, shipments unable to make it from the mainland, bad weather, things like that.
He looks up, eyebrows raised. He is... trying not to smile. Yeah, he knew that was gonna be the case. ]
... Oh, yeah?
no subject
March flips the notebook around so Kieren--is Kieren smiling?--can see the nearly illegible notes he'd written. "Basil bulb" is underlined. ]
Think that was supposed to be beelzebub. [ don't drink, kids. ] Eddie was telling me what to do.
no subject
(Jesus, your handwriting sucks, Holland.)
And... Eddie is involved with this too. Kieren's pretty friendly with him, so he also seems pretty unsurprised. He is half-'Eddie what the hell did you do' and half-'actually kind of want to see where this is going'. ]
What to do about Beelzebub...?
no subject
Yeah, heard a voice second or third night we were here. [ The night he'd wandered out completely smashed and decided to yell at an ungodly hour in the morning and wake up most of the village, naturally. ] Mostly telling me to shut up, but the big doom at hand message? Terrifying. Eddie told me it was that guy, the basil---Beezlebub. Satanic shit. Thinking maybe he was fucking with me now.
no subject
Oh, yeah. He remembered that. It woke him up for a bit. Someone bellowing outside at stupid o'clock in the morning is definitely not a thing that makes Kieren go: "Oh, let me just get out of bed and see what that's about." Even with the fact he wouldn't have had his contacts in or mousse on.
But holy shit, Eddie. Kieren raises his own eyebrows at that. He is fighting to keep his face neutral. ]
Really? Mmm, I dunno. You don't really mess around with that satanic stuff. [ He shakes his head. ] Nah, surely not.
[ He is not above being a snarky little shit, sometimes. Yes, Eddie was absolutely fucking with you, Holland. ]
no subject
March matches it immediately. ]
Okay. I see what you're doing. I see what's going on. I get it.
[ Does he though? ]
no subject
Mmm? No idea what you're talking about. Nothin' going on here. [ You see nothing, Holland. ] Just a perfectly good warning about them devils and stuff.
[ Nope, he can't do it anymore. He's cracking. There's a snort and he bursts out into a laugh. ]
You're an absolute mug.
no subject
You're a plate.
[ There's an appropriate dish related response in his book. He clearly doesn't mean anything by it, though. ]
no subject
Mate, you're shit at this. That's not even a thing.
[ Definitely not a thing. ]
I would have taken a snappy 'Hey, fuck you.'
no subject
And have the whole village on my ass for being mean to a 16 year old? Get enough shit already. Now--that's a fax machine, right? Or does it magically replicate your food like that sci fi show all the house wives like?
[ It is, indeed, a fax machine. Just one from the 90s. ]
no subject
[ No one's going to care that someone told Kieren 'fuck you'. ]
Yeah, that's a fax machine. [ Don't ask him if he knows how it works. Kieren might know what one is, but he sure as hell isn't going to know how to work one. ] Honestly, technology's not that fancy. There's no... flying cars, or anything. Just regular ones.