this empty northern hemisphere

[singmod]

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

Comments

[load_aim_shoot]

Good -- and maybe he'll do even better once he realises it might be coming. Raju keeps his eyes on Fitzjames' with the same challenging little grin he'd had before they'd started, and after the next round of step-hop-step Raju keeps turning in the same way, once and then again, the move only saved from becoming a spin by its lack of speed. He plans on looking into Fitzjames' face after, too; Raju isn't sure if he's realised Raju's changing things without warning on purpose yet, and he wants to see the moment he does.

[gildedlife]

The grin is tipping James off, but he isn't quite sure of what Raju's doing until the next set of turns. Once they're two turns in he's confident enough to call Raju out on it, laughing a little.

"Daring, to add unexpected turns. You must have little fear for your feet." Between the general risk of getting stepped on during a dance, James is also somewhat drunk, which only increases the risk. But he's clearly amused by this little change of pace, and honestly not too bothered by having a little break from the more strenuous part of the dance; he may have overestimated his strength a bit, but is absolutely unwilling to admit such a thing.

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju's grin flows into a smile at Fitzjames' good humour. It's in line with the man who hadn't minded being challenged at the start of this, but the little laugh is a surprise. "What's a bruise or two? Besides, you haven't stepped on my toes yet. You must have done this one often at home, unless you were only picking it to trip me up."

It's more a tease than any serious accusation, and Raju's tone is playful; the man Fitzjames had been in the days that Francis says he himself was different, too, maybe that Commander Fitzjames would have held some kind of grudge against Raju for the way they'd met, but in the wake of what they'd survived none of Francis' men he's met seem inclined to hold a grudge, save the one. Besides, the hop in this one puts the mazurka at least closer than a waltz to a proper dance, the kind with any hope of tiring him out, so it was a good choice anyway. This one won't, of course, but it's a bit of fun, and Raju likes it.

[gildedlife]

It's been a great challenge in the past months--both here and before, during the Expedition--to find moments in which he can forget about the horrors and just enjoy some levity. They've happened here and there, of course, but each is fleeting, and he's all too aware of how quickly the opportunities to experience them can come to an end.

So when he can, he tries to hold onto them, to enjoy them, to not allow himself to give into the sense that he should temper himself. The alcohol is helping with that, preventing him from doing too much second-guessing, and so he smiles as well and dares a shake of his head even as they're turning.

"It isn't a particularly common choice at a ball, but you asked for something fast." And this had been the one to come to mind. Although James does have to ask--

"Do you attend many such events? Or did you encounter this particular dance elsewhere?"

[load_aim_shoot]

"Plenty of times at home." A hop, a step, a turn again and Raju thinks briefly that this cold air has at least one thing going for it: there's no chance of sweating hands, or a dance partner who sees nerves there instead of simple exertion. The temperature certainly doesn't have anything else in its favour. Raju's thumbs lift from their place on Fitzjames to rub over the side of his fingers in a try for some warmth. He'd had to take his mittens off to dance properly, and if he focuses again on the dance itself maybe he won't mind that quite so much.

"The other officers hold-- held parties sometimes. I thought I'd better learn. Do you like the slower ones better, then?" It'd be a shame to slow down, but for Francis' friend Raju wouldn't mind it. Too much, anyway.

[gildedlife]

"Other officers?" James realizes, suddenly, that he really doesn't know anything about whatever Raju's job is back in his time and place, and the mention of officers makes him very curious.

But he does remember the question he'd been asked as well, at least. "No, not exactly. I have little preference." He enjoys dancing for the distraction of it, the need to focus and concentrate on what he's doing--whether that's the dance itself or conversation--and the rush of physical activity. He's someone typically very active, and as much as he does like to talk, if given the choice he'd like to be moving while doing so.

Except that's been somewhat difficult lately, and he never would've been this tired after only a portion of one dance at home. Balls tended to be multi-hour affairs, and he would spend a great deal of that time on the dance floor, wearing out the sort of energy that normally allowed him to do such ridiculous things as helping haul a steam engine up a mountain, or traveling a thousand miles on foot through the near east. Now, he'll be lucky if he can make it to the end of the mazurka without it being too obvious that he's tiring.

But it's more than he could've done a few months ago, and there's certainly an amount of exhaustion he can overcome with stubbornness, which he intends to do so for the last part of the dance. And, distracting himself further, he adds another question--

"Had you a dance in mind, then, that you would've chosen?"

[load_aim_shoot]

"Not exactly. I prefer to improvise." He smiles, pleased with the memory of the last time he'd really been able to cut loose that way-- but he'd only been able to in the first place because he hadn't been there as an officer, that time, and no one there knew who he was. It's a little odd to be asked about it now, the work he'd explained very easily to others when he'd first arrived, and now want to give a different answer, was instead of am. Maybe there's a way to say it while avoiding the tense altogether. "But that's harder to get away with when your superior officers are the ones throwing the parties, and they do have preferences."

Very British preferences, but if he says so he's going to have to say it like it doesn't matter, even knowing what he does about Fitzjames now. There must be a reason the man wants so badly for his secret to remain that way, and Raju hardly wants to risk arguing about the British Empire now.

"British ones mostly, or European," he shrugs. "It's the police for me at home, not navy, but I expect the formalities are much the same even in your day. The dances must have changed a little, I think, but I don't mind figuring it out."

[gildedlife]

Since they're sort of improvising in the dance now, James isn't as surprised by this answer as he might've otherwise been; improving in what would presumably be a partner dance--assuming it's a ball like he's used to, anyway--is a bit of a risk, but then again, it can obviously work out well enough in the right situations.

Hearing that Raju seems to have been involved with the police, likely as an officer considering the 'other officers' comment, is neither hugely surprising nor a profession he would've guessed. He can see it, and yet it also seems perhaps like an odd choice.

"Where did you live?" James knows it's somewhere warm, from the discussion they'd had in the cave, but nothing more detailed; he could makes guesses based on that information combined with the politics and the reach of the British Empire, but considering their difference in times, who knows how accurate he'd be. Might as well just ask.

[load_aim_shoot]

"Delhi, before I came here. South before that. India, but the superior officers all bring their dances over from France, Spain, Poland-- whatever's in fashion in England." Another dancing couple nearly bumps into them and Raju quickly switches direction, interrupting himself to warn Fitzjames quickly: "Other way-- ah, but you don't care for any of it? No preference for any dances at all?"

He says it as if it's a little difficult to believe. Later, when Francis insists he doesn't care for dancing either -- and isn't it the same thing, not caring for dancing and not caring enough about dancing to prefer any of it? -- Raju will think it's probably a problem with Britain, that its men are taught to do it for form's sake and not anything else. For now he only thinks that it's a shame. There must be something Fitzjames cares about the way he should care about a good dance. "What do you have a preference for, Commander? Before... everything, there must have been something you did for fun."

[gildedlife]

Ah, India. That makes sense, particularly with how much interaction there was between England and India in James' time; he imagines there would be even more in the future. "I've spent only a few months there, primarily in Calcutta, though I visited Bombay as well."

He only semi-gracefully follows Raju's lead to avoid the other couple, but there's no collision, and that's what really matters and so he's quickly focused on conversation once more. Although James' interest in dancing is indeed pretty general--he's someone who enjoys being physically active, and dancing is an excellent way to do that while also working out nerves, depending on the partner--that isn't true of everything he does, and he should have a ready answer for what he enjoys as hobbies.

But he doesn't. Logically, of course, he can remember hobbies he enjoyed; he draws, attends plays and operas, goes horseback-riding, plays pranks on friends and spends hours writing letters to them, reads, keeps up on the latest fashions and trends and either judges or readily partakes in them, learns new languages, and explores the world. Those are all things he should be able to give as answers, but they feel like answers that belong to a different person.

So he falters for a response, even the remaining alcohol in his system not really enough to override the jolt of uncertainty, but he's soon managing a passable attempt at a smile and light response. "I spent a great deal of time drawing; it's a pastime well-suited to being at sea for extended periods."

[load_aim_shoot]

Better, probably, to focus more on the drawing than what exactly an officer of the British navy was doing in his few months stationed places none of them should have been, and so Raju does; he watches Fitzjames closely, trying to parse the hesitation. Raju doesn't know him well enough to be sure, he decides, whether the answer he gets is polite and mostly-honest, or only polite. It might be useful, in any case, as the mention of being at sea reminds him.

"It was enough to keep you busy most of the time? Staying inside all the time with this cold, it's... difficult." And that's going to get worse, now that the dark is going to make it even colder. If Raju could find new ways to keep himself occupied, that couldn't hurt. "I imagine being stuck on a ship all day is close to that, at least. But drawing was enough?"

[gildedlife]

"During the Expedition we were stuck on a ship during polar night." So double the boredom and stir-craziness, which in hindsight really does explain some of the particular difficulties. But he says it lightly, finding new footing in the conversation now that he can answer more generally and less personally.

"But that's an unusual experience. Typically one has plenty to do on a ship, and time for leisure activities is limited." Or at least it always had been in his experience. What had occupied his time varied depending on rank and particular commission, but he'd always had something to do, and if he hadn't he'd typically had opportunity to find something to do. The Expedition had been a different case, and so has being here, and he circles back to that comment about staying inside with the cold.

"Are you finding it difficult to adjust to staying inside?"

[load_aim_shoot]

He smiles wryly, sighs, nods. The steps of the dance are growing less energetic as they go, at least on Raju’s part, as his earlier expectations of some kind of competition with Fitzjames fade; while still following Fitzjames’ lead Raju’s hops are more perfunctory, and his steps are more ready to ease into something a little bit more like a waltz. He’s focusing more on the conversation now.

“It isn’t as bad as it was in the Community Hall; I didn’t know anyone there. But it must have been better on a ship, with more to do. The chores that need doing inside only take so long. How have you been managing it now? Have you been drawing still?”

[gildedlife]

James won't admit it, but he's more than happy to let the more strenuous part of the dance fade out; he's going to be feeling both the exhaustion and muscle soreness from this tomorrow--or later tonight, when the alcohol wears off--but at least it's from actually doing something, rather than just existing. It's definitely time to switch to a somewhat slower dance, even if it's still something a bit faster than one of the lazier waltzes.

"I haven't. Though perhaps I should, if I can find the necessary supplies." And he does mean that; he'd thought about trying to find paper and something to write with before, as he typically keeps a journal, but hasn't bothered to do so yet. Maybe that should change, and if he does find what he needs he can both journal and draw a little.

Also, hopefully that's a smooth enough diversion away from how James has been spending his time, though he further follows it up with a question. "You asked of my favored activities; aside from dancing, what else do you enjoy?"

[load_aim_shoot]

On the heels of that no, it's easy to assume the question is related; Fitzjames used to spend time drawing and he hasn't been, and he's used to the bustle of a ship. The two of them must be in similar straits, though between Francis'... distaste for canned food and his expertise in making his own, Raju's at least got more that needs doing than he would otherwise. He'd had more time free when he'd stayed at the Community Hall, too.

He shrugs, smiles wryly. "If you're looking for tips on staying busy here, I'm afraid I don't have much. There's a man in town, the odd one with the mask, he runs a kind of library here. That helps. The ones about foliage are the most useful, but I don't know what you read for fun. As for drawing, I took plenty of paper from the old General Store before that man took it over for himself -- it isn't drawing paper, but you can take what you like. I've some notebooks. How are you with a needle and thread? It helps to have something to repair."

and fade out~

[gildedlife]

The tip about the library is a good one, and sounds vaguely familiar; he thinks someone else might've told him something similar before, but his memories of the first few weeks he was here are slightly hazy and so he isn't entirely sure. Foliage is not the most interesting topic ever, but it is possibly useful, and James is a bit more of a nerd than he'll ever really let on and so can usually find something interesting about any subject. It's well worth checking out.

But the offer of paper is much more compelling, and it not being drawing paper doesn't bother him in the slightest. But as for the question-- "My talent for mending is better not spoken of." He could whip-stitch something if he absolutely had to, but no one would ever want him to make a repair unless there's no other choice, and James has no particular interest in the skill either. Of course, it might well end up being worthwhile to stave off boredom.

But the paper sounds a great deal more appealing. "If you've truly paper to spare, I will gladly take some. Venturing out during polar night is not an issue for me, so perhaps I can stop by sometime soon."

Or he'll intend to, and then time will get away from him, but that's alright. Surely the next time he's over at the cabin things will be calm and nothing bad will be going on outside and nothing awkward will happen. Right? Right.