singillatim | this empty northern hemisphere

this empty northern hemisphere

NOVEMBER 2024 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — STRANGERS: The Darkwalker returns to directly target Interlopers by stripping away the very things that make them who they are.

PROMPT TWO — NO EXIT: Interlopers find themselves trapped within the bowels of the earth, with no way out, except one.

PROMPT THREE — LAST SUNSET OF THE YEAR: As the long night draws in, Interlopers find a way to bring about some festive cheer to chase off the chill and darkness.

STRANGERS

WHEN: The month of November
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: mental manipulation; memory loss; loss of self/identity; potential identity crisis; potential personality changes; possible themes of depression; possible themes of suicide.

”They failed.”

For some, they have heard this voice before many times. For others they have only heard the voice upon their arrival into this place. An old voice, deep and dark and ancient. Something impossible, older than the earth itself. The one that 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 an unnerving voice. It feels wrong. It feels like an ending. It is the very same voice that spoke to you, right from the start. The words all Interlopers share with one another: You are the Interloper. You are not part of nature’s design.

They failed, and you realise just who ‘they’ are — the Forest Talkers. Mallory slumped in a cabin, slowly bleeding out.

”Interloper.”.

The voice that wants you gone. The one that wants to get rid of you. The Darkwalker.

”Inconsequential. They have gone into the Dark. As will you. As will all.”

The words hang in the air for a moment before it continues.

“What are you truly, Interloper?” it asks you. ”Or rather…. who are you? Take it away, and what are you left with?”

You feel your hands shake, you can’t seem to breathe. What does it mean?

”Perhaps nothing worth keeping, perhaps then you will finally see. Maybe you will finally understand your place. And perhaps then you will go into the Dark.”

You remember those words, and they linger within your mind in the days that follow.

It happens slowly, like the sea erodes the cliff face. The pieces come away, everything within you is slowly undone. Not an instant, but an insidious thing. You begin to forget things, about yourself, about the others around you.

You know you have loved ones, here in the Northern Territories, or even the ones waiting for you back home, but you cannot recognise their faces. You cannot recall the colour of a daughter’s hair, or the dimpled smile of a brother. You do not remember your father’s eyes, or your mother’s laugh. You cannot recall their names, their voices.

You do not remember those around you here in this world. You look upon a friend and see a stranger. You cannot recall the trials you have gone through together and come out the other side from. You cannot remember every shared moment, every small and brief moment of joy or compassion or hope. A hug, a hand held, a joke, a kind word, an apology.

Or perhaps you cannot remember any good thing you ever did. You cannot recall any act of kindness or goodness you brought into the world. You cannot recall your good deeds. Everything falls away from you, and you are left wondering who you are, what kind of person you are. Are you a good person? Or a bad person? Perhaps you’re a terrible person, after all. One who should not be here. Why should someone who has done nothing good with their life be here in this place?

Perhaps the Darkwalker is right. Take it all away, and who are you? What is left of you? Who are you if you cannot remember any goodness of you? If you cannot remember the connections you have made in this place? If you cannot remember the love of those back home?

Is it anything worth keeping? Is it anything that’s worth staying?

For some, it may be too much. Despair and disconnection are heavy things, and it may be too much. Perhaps they are nothing worth keeping, in the end. It may be enough to seek an end to themselves. Maybe it would be best to slip quietly into the Long Dark, after all.

It is a terrible trick, but it is one that can be broken. The Darkwalker’s hold has been broken before, and perhaps it can be broken again. Even if you do not remember yourself, the ones around you do. Leaning on those you are close to and talking with slowly pull the pieces of yourself back to you. The Darkwalker has power, but the testament of Interlopers is their persistence in this world, and that has power, too. Given enough time, and patience, and care — those around you may finally make you whole once more.

NO EXIT

WHEN: The month of November
WHERE: Everywhere...?
CONTENT WARNINGS: forced honesty; claustrophobic situations; nyctophobic/scotophobic situations; themes of peril; caves/possible cave-ins; themes of starvation/dehydration; themes of imprisonment

It starts with strange happenings at night, things left to be found by the next morning. Those within Lakeside many find themselves unsurprised You don’t remember falling asleep. You’re sure you were wide awake only seconds before, but when you open your eyes, confused and groggy, you are met with a strange kind of darkness. The kind that seems thick and endless, and you stare into it, trying to get your eyes to adjust but nothing seems to shift in your vision.

The air is stale, and there’s a scent of old, damp stone that clings to it. As you move around, trying to get your bearings, the room echoes oddly and it doesn’t take long to realise that you’re in some kind of cave atrium. And soon enough, someone else is waking up — you’re not alone in this place.

Moving around is difficult, and it’s best to use your body to try to navigate yourself. Testing the way out carefully with hands and feet. Maybe you have something on your by chance to help you light your way — a lighter, a pocket flashlight, matches. However, which way you try to feel out the atrium, you both soon come to the same conclusion: no matter how hard you try, there is no exit. No tunnel or passage out from the atrium, nothing.

You are both entirely trapped within this one space.

For a while, you sit in the atrium. Maybe you sit in silence, maybe you speak over what looks to be the inevitable: you’re doomed to die here, whether you suffocate or die of dehydration or starvation. You and your companion — familiar or strangers —

Out of nowhere, comes a scraping against the stone. You turn to find that on one of the walls, there is light — a ghost writing on the wall, carving into the stone to reveal letters that will glow dimly:

THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE

For some, this feels eerily familiar. Those who have been in the Northern Territories have dealt with something similar: a game of truths, a game of deadly consequences. There is no Jackal-headed being, no chains, no blood. This time, there is the truth or there is waiting to die. For others who aren’t familiar, it may take some working out. Maybe it’s best to talk, after all.

Opting for silence will find that nothing will change in the cave’s atrium. You will be left, waiting to die in the half-gloom. Strangely, speaking any lies will find that the cave will rumble ominously, and with enough — rock will begin fall down from above, almost as the place is slowly caving in. As if the stone itself knows if your words are truthful or not.

But as the words say, the truth will set you free. If you say enough, speak your truth, you will find yourselves noting a shift on the air — a crisp, freshness that drifts in from one direction. Heading through that way will bring you to a tunnel that had not been there before, and with it — you will find your exit, out into the wilds of Milton’s region.

LAST SUNSET OF THE YEAR

WHEN: Preparations throughout November; November 26th.
WHERE: Milton Community Hall
CONTENT WARNINGS: drinking/alcohol; mentions of survival situations relating to AMC's The Terror.

As November begins to draw to a close, the daylight hours grow shorter and shorter. From the start of the month, there is less than seven hours of daylight and that number becomes smaller and smaller as the month goes on. The world is darker and colder, and the long night draws nearer — when the sun will not rise, and the Northern Territories exist in total darkness, save for the spare hours of twilight.

For some, it is not the first time they’ve experienced the darkness of winter. For a select few, they have known the darkness only too well — the bitterness, the hopelessness, the hunger for the dawn. But even in the dark, there are sparks of light — the crackles of fires to fight off the night and cold, or in a more figurative sense… the spark of an idea, another way to fight off the night and cold.

As the day shrinks, the idea grows. There is little to be cheerful of in the Northern Territories. Interlopers are tormented endlessly in this place: supernatural beings, harsh weather, precarious food situations, nightmares, the Forest Talkers and whatever mysteries lie within the Aurora. Survival is a persistence, but people are exhausted. Francis Crozier, former Captain of HMS Terror knows this more than anyone. A veteran, and a survivor of an ill-fated expedition— he has seen what becomes of those with low morale, when the darkness seems so thick and endless. He has seen many horrors.

This time, though, it can be different. This is not his world. These are not starving and maddened men, women and children. It is not Carnivale.

Over the month of November, plans are made and slowly bear fruit. Help is wrangled from Interlopers where they can — food preparation, decorations, musicians. Interlopers are encouraged to add their personal touches, country, culture, customs, to all that they plan. The only thing that’s insisted upon is light, so much light: lanterns, candles, torches, mirrors, sculptures made of ice that catch the glimmer of the nearby fires. The evening will glow.

There isn’t so much a ‘dress code’, per say. But Interlopers are encouraged to dress up for the occasion. Maybe hunting around in the homes of former Milton residents may prove lucky — with some rather dated formal-wear that has remained forgotten in the back of closets. It’s vintage, is all.

On November 26th, there is less than an hour of daylight. The crowds gather to watch the sun set after it has barely risen before the festivities begin.

The food is simple and hearty, much like what can be found at Methuselah’s feasts. While pine wine has been brought along, hot tea is also available—both can keep the chill away. Crozier digs into his stores to share all, a promise to every person as they descend into darkness: no Interloper will go hungry this winter.

There’s dancing, of course, an area cleared and illuminated with torches. There’s an insistence on a party thrown in open air, no canvas to obscure the stars, though inside the Community Hall the warmth calls to those needing a break from the chill.

It is important to remember that the last sunset of the year is not the reminder of the darkness ahead, but the promise of the first sunrise of the next.

FAQs

STRANGERS

1. While the Darkwalker Ward Talismans anointed with Interloper blood (first created by Heartman earlier in the year) will help ward off the worst of the Darkwalker's influence, Interlopers will still find themselves vulnerable to this kind of influence — particularly if their spirits are low, or if they've found themself questioning themselves or their relationships around them as of late. Interlopers who do not have Talismans (this is a handwaved thing) will fall victim very easily to the Darkwalker's influence.

2. There are three ways players can play with this plot: they can go with a loss of self, the loss of game-cr or the loss of canon relationships/canon story. Players can go with whatever way they see fit. They can also go with the nuclear option of all three, or a mix of the three.

NO EXIT

1. The truths need to be meaningful in some way in order to secure freedom. 'Small truths' will not be enough.

2. Either both or one of the characters can speak their truth in order to free themselves from the cave.

LAST SUNSET OF THE YEAR

1. A big thank you to Gels for reaching out and helping with this prompt!

2. Characters will be able to find 'formal wear' of a sort within Milton. Bear in mind that a great deal of the fashion within Milton is dated, with a lot of the clothing being decades old that the original residents of Milton would have carefully kept safe. For a rough idea, nothing would be from anything later than the late-00's.

3. Players are free to write out any preparation threads as well as party threads! This could be outfit hunting; resource gathering for food, etc.; or making decorations for the Community Hall.

PLOTTING POST

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James' gaze follows her as she crosses the room, and he notices the gold fabric just before she reaches and picks it up. He can tell right away by the way it rests on her arm that the fabric is likely very fine, and the sparkling gold color is striking, though he can't quite tell right away how the dress itself cut.

"It's quite eye-catching." Perhaps an understatement, but the lilt to his tone probably makes it clear he very much likes what he can see of the dress. "And thematically appropriate, yes. Have you tested the fit?"

“Roughly.” Fortunately for her he had arrived after that. “It's a bit long for me, but my…”

What is she meant to call Lyanna? She isn't a servant, not here where there is no official hierarchy, but they're not quite equals either.

“My companion, she can alter it for me easily.”

Lyanna had struggled with some basic household tasks but truly is talented with a needle.

“Do you know what sort of thing you're looking for?”

He's still curious about the dress, but there's no more he can really pry about it without likely making her uncomfortable, so he responds lightly about the alterations instead.

"A useful skill to have in this place." Invaluable in the navy too, especially while in the arctic, and probably something James should bother trying to learn a little of himself. There's plenty of time for learning here, after all.

As for Randvi's question--

"I don't know that I can choose to be selective." Though he certainly will be anyway. "A vest, perhaps. It's strange to be without one for so long, though it seems they are no longer as common in this time." Actually it's been a little surprising just how few people here wear vests of any sort, when they're essentially ubiquitous at the time James is from.

“I’ve never had the patience for it,” Randvi admits. She can do it, but it's hasty and not particularly beautiful. “Though I can braid rope well enough.”

The article of clothing he's looking for, however, is a mystery.

“I don't know what that is, a vest.” Such things will not become fashionable in England until long after her death. “If you can describe it to me, I can let you know if I've seen one.”

She can see him still eyeing the dress, though, and asks, “Are you a tailor yourself? You can examine this more closely if you'd like.”

Braiding rope is something James knows how to do but hasn't had reason to bother with in ages, not since he'd been more hands-on with actual sailing, but he does remember it being somewhat less tedious than sewing so it makes sense enough why Randvi might prefer it.

But it's almost amusing how that piece of knowledge of something they both share, and yet she's asking what a vest is, and James had never even considered that the word might have no meaning to her. He also isn't sure how to describe it without sounding absurd, but makes and attempt all the same.

"A vest is a primarily decorative layer that covers the upper body only; it's cut much like my greatcoat, in terms of the lapels and manner of buttons, although without sleeves and made of thinner material." He gestures to his coat as he describes it, and since he's no longer wearing it completely buttoned up after acquiring some better clothes, it does thankfully provide a decent example.

But if that description doesn't make it clear, he's certainly not a tailor, and he shakes his head at her question. "I am not, but I find clothing of interest, and style changes so quickly that much of what I've seen here is entirely new." So if she doesn't mind if he takes a look at the dress, he definitely wants to.

Randvi had never seen eyeglasses before arriving in this place; for a moment she had thought them some affectation that only doctors wore. Which is to say that she's fairly used to not knowing what things are at this point.

“Oh. I think Alan Wake wears something similar. The one with shorter hair. I have not seen anything like that here. The function is purely decorative?”

They don't sound particularly warm.

She extends her arm so he can take the dress if he’d like. “I am unfamiliar with most fabrics used here, and the cut of this is like nothing I have ever worn.”

James hasn't met Alan Wake, or has any idea why the name wouldn't be enough of an identifier without his hair length as well--are there two people with the exact same name?--but he makes a mental note of it anyway. Apparently at least someone else here appreciates vests.

"They're primarily decorative, yes, although if made of wool or other similar material they can provide some warmth as well." His last vest had been that way, and really he wishes he had his entire favorite outfit from the expedition here, but he's long since accepted that he hadn't gotten that lucky.

But at least he can look at the dress, and he takes it carefully, not sure what the fabric is made out of other than that it drapes nicely and he doesn't want to damage it. He's familiar with both beading and sequins, so whichever the case may be he'll be able to tell up close, but depending on the cut the style might be completely unexpected for his time as well.

“Oh.” Randvi thinks maybe she has seen such a thing before, a wool one. “I believe that Doctor Darling wears such things as well. Casper.”

The dress is made of a synthetic material neither of them would likely recognize, a satin-like gold sheen that might have been the height of fashion for ringing in the new millennium. The bodice features thin straps and a low, square neckline, and small beads create the illusion of a gradient running toward the hem. The skirt is long but narrow, designed to follow the line of the leg.

That's a name he does recognize, though hadn't been entirely sure if was a real name or some sort of odd term of endearment considering who he'd heard it from. But good to know on both counts--the name being real and another person with taste--so he nods in thanks for the information.

Most of his attention, though, is on the dress. The fabric is indeed entirely unfamiliar, though the way it moves is very appealing, especially with the color and gradient effect from the beads. The neckline itself is nothing shocking--low, shoulder-revealing necklines are common in James' time--but the straps are more unusual, as is the slinky, close-cut skirt. Nothing completely unheard of, but certainly uncommon, especially when combined together.

"This is not a cut common to my time either." But interesting, certainly, though the practical side of him also can't help but notice something else. "It would provide very little warmth." So as beautiful as the dress is, he's a bit concerned about Randvi potentially getting hypothermia or something if she wears it to the party.

“Yes,” Randvi agrees. “I doubt warmth in these cold months was the original owner’s primary concern.” Though it may have been, in the end. She had after all, assuming she’d survived, left it behind. “I will simply have to fortify myself with drink and either dance or stay close to the fire.”

James turns the dress in his hands a few more times, considering the details once again, but then carefully holds it out for Randvi to take once more. "Provided enough people attend, that may help as well." Even outdoors, more people around tends to make it a little warmer. He's not convinced dance or drink would be enough to keep her from freezing though, and part of him wants to give a doubtlessly unnecessary warning not to get too close to the fire, but he holds back all of those comments; she can doubtlessly take care of herself, and doesn't need to deal with his misdirected anxiety about this whole thing.

At least not in that form, anyway, as instead he asks-- "Are gatherings such as this held often here?"

“Not exactly like this, but gatherings are held as often as is possible with the way things are always happening here.” It's hard to party too much when everything is trying to kill you.

“This will be the fourth social event since my arrival, unless you count those feasts Methuselah holds when new people arrive. There was a sort of festive gathering for women soon after my arrival, then the card game in the summer and the harvest party last month.”

Randvi has attended every one of them.

“I believe such things are necessary in this place to keep people alive. The creature that hunts us, I think we are more vulnerable to it in our darker moments.”

"You had said that you arrived in spring, yes? That's a number of events in such a short time." He's a little surprised by that considering the general situation of being here, though it sounds like not all of those events were particularly large party, so probably didn't use a great deal of supplies or anything like that.

But that's ultimately less interesting than the rest of what Randvi says, and the sense of deva-ju it brings. He remembers, certainly not for the first time here, the conversation he had with Blanky about the darkness that can grow in one's mind. How the solution for that had also been to do something that was meant to be fun, but which had only turned to more horror.

For a moment, a flicker of those thoughts show on his face, but he quickly replaces it with a mild smile. "Finding enjoyment where one can is vital, even without some sort of creature to contend with. But you believe its effect on us varies? Have some shown more resistance or vulnerability to it than others?"

“Yes. Just as the year was turning.” It has nearly been a full year now, from one winter to the next.

The man makes a face at this that Randvi has difficulty reading. Perhaps he's still new enough here that imagining that length of time in this place is horrifying to him.

“Not resistance particularly, outside of Heartman’s talismans, but a vulnerability. When the creature came here the first time and devoured one of us, your doctor…” It's still upsetting to her even if she knows it was necessary. “He cut her, to determine the manner of her death. She had not eaten in several days. She died outside the community hall, and she was strong enough to hunt for herself and well-liked besides. The only reason I can imagine for her to have gone so long between meals is despair.”

James vaguely remembers hearing something about Goodsir having examined a victim of the Darkwalker, but he'd never really gotten any more details about the subject, so this isn't entirely unfamiliar but still definitely new information. However, he doesn't necessarily agree with the conclusion; although despair is certainly an explanation for not eating, it also isn't the only one, even in a case where access to food isn't an issue. The first thought that comes to mind for James is that she might've been unwell in some other way, simply hiding it, and had refused to ask for help for some reason ranging from pride to a sense of responsibility.

Of course, he's also projecting, and doubtlessly Goodsir would've noticed symptoms of an illness serious enough to have left this person unable to eat. But assuming the person who'd died had indeed been suffering from depression alone, perhaps the reason for it has something to do with the Darkwalker as well.

"As I understand, the Darkwalker can cause us to act strangely and feel emotions more strongly; is that so?" He remembers being told about about the terror it instills, even in people who are normally in control of their fear.

“That's correct. There are of course the ways that it interferes with us normally, strange thoughts, voices, lost memories... But its actual presence is difficult to describe. I have never before felt fear like that.” Randvi shudders even at the memory. “It activates some base instinct to burrow down, protect yourself. Even when it came to Lakeside, the effect here was still potent, so being so close… Your doctor suspects it stopped their hearts.”

He has of course heard of people dropping dead of fear, and so that at least makes sense, and it lines up with some of the other things he's heard so far about the creature and what it can do. But hearing her direct experience is more convincing than anything he'd been told before, as although James has only met Randvi a few times, she doesn't seem the type to frighten easily.

"It only shows itself rarely?" He's heard that's the case, but the more corroboration, the better. It's also definitely not that he feels the strange sense of both wanting the answer to be yes, and wanting to actually have the opportunity to experience the creature's presence himself. It doesn't sound pleasant at all, but imagination tends to be worse than reality, and a part of him would prefer to just know what he's dealing with.

“Yes. Since I've arrived it's only come here three times. Twice to Milton and once to Lakeside. I'm not certain that it's fully corporeal - it left a strange residue on the snow but we have seen no prints.”

Randvi looks at the man, expression grave. “That is why I suspect it's drawn here by something about the person it targets. If it had the ability to kill us all I think it would have done it that first night, when it killed La’an.”

"Residue?"

That sound strange enough to question in general, but it also seems like something important to be able to recognize in case he ever sees it. But her last comments are even more interesting, as James had wondered something similar as well when told earlier about the Darkwalker; if it were so powerful, why hadn't it just killed everyone it wants to kill?

But if there are conditions that must be met first, that would make sense. Being drawn to someone who fits those conditions would also make sense, although perhaps it's the other way around--

"Do you believe it targets someone initially, because of something about them? Or does it perhaps inflict suffering through how it's capable of affecting those here, and that in turn causes in some people to develop whatever it is that its looking for?" Causing pain, or fear, or any number of other things that could come out of the sorts of things he's heard the Darkwalker blamed for could certainly cause someone to fall into despair, and perhaps that is indeed the point.

“Yes. It is green - like the aurora can be, like the glow in our dreams when I first arrived here - and insubstantial. It faded away after several hours. Someone I know tried to collect some of it after La’an was killed and was unable to do so. He said that touching it felt like death.”

This was her friend Edward (not young Edward with the music or the pathetic Saxon but a secret third Edward) who is unfortunately no longer present, but surely others had attempted the same thing.

“I believe that it must be using these horrible things it does to us to put us into a state where it can consume us.”

It's the only thing that makes sense to her.

“That is why we need to take care of each other. Each person who falls to despair here is a loss for all of us.”

Yes, even the vile Cornelius Hickey.

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