redstringtheories

Entry tags:

!tdm

TDM #9

➥ Arrival

Photo of a modern office building from the outside. There is a manicured lawn with several trees and bushes. To the left side of the photo, there is a waterbody with reeds around the fringes. There is a purple gradient filter over everything.
(cw: potential for severe disorientation/vertigo, claustrophobia, arachnophobia, body horror)

It happens in the blink of an eye. You may have been asleep. You may not have. You may have stepped through a door or turned a corner. You may have seen a flicker of something at the corner of your vision and turned to look. Or maybe you didn't.

It doesn't matter. What matters is that you find yourself somewhere entirely new and entirely unfamiliar. The arrival point is not always the same. (If you're lucky, it might be a canteen or an open office. If you're not, well... you aren't claustrophobic, are you? Or arachnophobic. These ducts do seem to be a bit cobwebby.) There is no one waiting for you but you don’t seem to be alone, either. Even in a janitor’s closet or the bathroom, you’ll find at least one person who seems to be just as out of place as you are.

If characters have arrived in a location devoid of NPCs, they may want to work together to figure out what is going on... or to avoid their 'kidnappers.' If you’ve arrived in the middle of the entry foyer or the gym, there may well be a few people who startle a bit at your arrival and try to approach (or discreetly leave the room... where are they going?). Will you cooperate or fight? Do you even understand what they're saying? You might need to find a translator, if you’re not immediately willing to follow a stranger.

After characters follow their new hosts (or are forcibly taken in) there will be a limited tour and the chance to settle in at the ADI-provided housing. (Do you enjoy living with strangers? Well. It's a new situation to navigate, anyway.)

➥ The Road We All Must Travel

Photo of someone in blue jeans and brown boots walking along a path in the Dogtown forest. The trees do not have foliage, the sky is blue, and there is one of the Babson boulders to the left that reads 'study.'
(cw: death, child death, semi-graphic description of injury, existential terror, memory manipulation (adding memories))

Weird things happen in Dogtown, everyone knows it. The Apocalypse Disruption Initiative (ADI) is not above taking advantage of that to test out the waters for its newest arrivals. They're not looking to send anyone to their death, though, especially not with recent events that have transpired surrounding Dogtown. An employee gives you a number to call if anything truly dangerous happens and you've been left with another person at the trailhead. Maybe they're a new arrival, as well, or a more seasoned 'veteran.' Either way, you're together for the next while and you've been asked to find and record any paranormal activity in the park. You have your phones and any other equipment you might have brought with you. Those who succeed in documenting anything peculiar will receive a $100 reward to be used as they see fit.

There is a body on the side of the path. From a distance, it's hard to tell who it might be… apart from someone who's made terrible life choices about where to take a break. You might find the body propped up against a boulder, lying in the snow, or even slumped on a bench. Approaching, though, brings into view… someone. Maybe someone you recognize vaguely. Do you know them from- Where exactly do you know them from? Or maybe it's a complete stranger, someone foreign in face and form.

The body is never the same for any groups of people who might happen upon it. One time, it's a young white man dressed in what seems to be parachute pants, a boombox fallen or resting with him. Another, it's an Hispanic person, their clothes reminiscent of something out of a western. Still others, it might be a little black girl, looking like she's cosplaying one of the original settlers for Gloucester. People of all different races, ages, genders, times, all beside the path. Some of them look to be obviously dead, their heads caved in or blood splattered across the path. Others, it's harder to tell. They might be someone who's passed out? A drunk who's wandered here from town and could need help.

The moment anyone touches them, though, the body crumbles, something made of ash that simply wipes itself away. And in its place, it leaves memory. The person who touches the body will find themselves reliving the last horrified moments of this person's life. They will know precisely how and when this person died. Every death has some component of agony or fear. No one found passed quickly or painlessly.

Everyone dies, and it is never so kind a thing as they might have hoped. Never.

➥ Prisoners of Consciousness

Photo of a woman of Asian descent banging her hands against a frosted glass pain. The woman looks distressed.
(cw: altered mental states, breathing difficulties, imprisonment, victim-blaming)

Repairs are going about as well as they can be at ADI; the building still bears the scars of last month's attack but day to day matters slump back toward the status quo now that the acute crisis has passed. For a few days it actually seems as though the press of unending needs and obligations has abated, like a massive crushing stone lifted from one's back to allow a gasp of breath, leaving workers and residents reeling in the exhausted aftermath.

It doesn't last, but when the pressure intensifies once more it takes on yet another new form. Things will seem to be back to normal when suddenly you realize that the room in which you find yourself is getting smaller–or perhaps the air has grown stale, perhaps that's why it's suddenly so hard to breathe. You're trapped in here, locked in, locked away. Windows seem to shrink and fortify into slitted openings too tight for escape; what might have been an ordinary office door is now a heavy metal thing fortified with deadbolts.

They've locked you in; they've decided that you're not to move about freely, that you're a danger to others. Are you a danger to others? You must be; you must have done something to deserve this. The question of who 'they' are is one without an answer, a nebulous sense of them, the ones who call the shots, the ones who must be looking out for everyone. They don't speak to you; there's no chance to plead your case, only this miserable, tiny cell and your own guilt over something you must have done. You hear them passing by your door at times, keys jangling, footsteps heavy, but there's no hope of aid from them.

None of it is real. The rooms don't shrink; the doors and windows don't change. To someone not caught up in the illusion, it will seem as though those caught in its grip have gone into hysterics over nothing at all, insisting that they're trapped when all they need to do is open the door.

➥ A Trick of the Dark

Black and white photo of a woman on a cobblestone street at night. She is backlit by a street lamp and appears in silhouette, her features completely obscured. She is holding something in her left hand.
(cw: monsters in the dark, altered mental states, semi-graphic description of injury)

When the crushing claustrophobia finally abates, this time seemingly for good, the shadow woman makes her first appearance. She is seen only in darkness at nighttime, silhouetted in a doorway or lurking in an underpass. Turn on the lights, and there's nothing there–it must have been a trick of the light, the mind making connections out of something seen from the corner of one's eye.

Turn off the lights, though, and there she is again.

She's patient at first, toying with her prey. Lights on, and you're safe. Lights off and the figure returns, still and staring and something you can almost convince yourself you've somehow imagined. But leave the lights on too long, play with the light switch too many times, or watch her too closely, and her patience has an end. When she finally moves, she's fast, charging across a darkened street or a darkened room, the only expression visible on her face is the inhuman light in her eyes, and there is nothing left except to run for the nearest patch of brightness in the night. Maybe you even get away–flee to the circle of sickly light under a lamppost and she must halt at the edge of the darkness, unable to follow. She might circle, waiting for you to make a run for it, or she might disappear back into the night. Will you chance a sprint to the next pool of light?

For those she catches, there is pain. There are rending claws that leave her mark, bleeding, on her victims–but the pain does not end in death. It ends in madness. You may descend into a state beyond thought, mind disappearing into a panicked fugue from which you will retain no memories. Or you may believe yourself to be still fighting off the creature of the night and legions like her, using your environment to protect yourself, to stave off attack.

Those unaffected will see what is truly happening: victims of the creature run rampant in frenzied efforts to bring more and more darkness to the nighttime city. Wild-eyed and unaware, they may start at something as simple as unscrewing a lightbulb, or engage in something as complex as cutting power to entire buildings. Regular citizens of Gloucester fall victim along with the people of ADI and sabotage runs rampant through the city, but it seems that above all else, ADI itself is the target of these attempts to turn out the lights. Panic begins to spread throughout the city as the attacks continue night after night.

➥ Mod Notes

ARRIVAL (March 1 - 31): Two people will always arrive in the same general location together. Arrivals occur throughout the early month, not all on the same day or in the same place. Arrivals are not naturally fluent in English/other languages immediately upon arrival. Characters may attempt to evade capture, but they will eventually be snagged before they can leave the building. PC's already in-game are more than welcome to interact with and try to guide new PC's to get them oriented. Please refer to the Arrival page for details regarding the arrival and onboarding process.
The Road We All Must Travel (March 1 - 31): The bodies found can be photographed, but they'll turn up blurred. There's nothing that can be gleaned about the bodies from a distance, only by moving close and touching them. The bodies can be anyone from any time and any place, even other worlds. Characters might even see non-human races represented. In every case, the body will disappear when touched and characters will pick up the final moments of the person's life. Players are welcome to make these final moments anything they want. The person could have died by mundane or supernatural means, but they will have died a painful or terrifying death in some way.
Prisoners of Consciousness (March 4 - 12): Episodes in which characters believe themselves to be imprisoned will occur exclusively on ADI property and in the Flophouse. The hallucinations may last for minutes or hours, though characters are likely to perceive time as though they were imprisoned much longer. Characters not affected by the hallucination may help pull others out of it by grounding them in reality, but it is also possible for them to be drawn into the hallucination themselves if they become frightened.
A Trick of the Dark (Nights of March 12 - 15) While people who have been caught by the apparition seem to focus their attacks on ADI property, the shadow woman herself never appears within ADI offices or apartments. She may sometimes appear in the Flophouse, and frequently appears outdoors, in darkened hallways of local businesses, and in the homes of locals. ADI housing curfew at 11:00 PM each night is still in effect; characters who stay out later may crash at HQ but will not be let into the apartments (they may also be able to get into the Flophouse…if its residents are kind enough to take them in). Characters caught by the shadow woman will experience confusion, terror, and compulsion to sabotage lighting, particularly in and around ADI property, until dawn of the next day. Characters who attempt to fight the shadow woman will find that she fights back (and that any scratch from her claws still causes the fugue state); if they manage to pin her down she will dissipate into shadows.
↬ Main Navigation

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ There are or will probably be mentions of cults / psychological abuse / mind control and body horror in Robin's introspection. CW for the prompts: cults, gore. ]

► Arrival

[ It's difficult to explain what fear feels like — the kind that Robin grew up with is not how others describe it, so integral to her formative years that it rests deep in her skin. Even after being saved from the The Family, the world outside, so vast, so directionless, didn't scare her. Left to fend for herself, Robin simply found safety in her freedom.

So when she blinks, wakes up and sees a place she does not recognize, eyes darting around the bathroom's cold walls, Robin does not take it well. She immediately gets on her feet, deep breaths escalating until she finds someone — anyone. It only takes a few seconds to see their reflection in the mirror. ]

You — where am I? Who are you?

[ Fragility in her expression, hostility in her tone, even she can't tell if she's terrified or angry. All she can think of is reaching out to grab the other newcomer's arms, either to keep them in place or to make sure they're looking at her. ]

► The Road We All Must Travel

[ She stands still when she finds it, waiting for her fellow traveler to catch up: a body flat on its back, head turned to her, eyes and tongue missing, stomach ripped open to feed the wildlife. The mouth is shaped like their death was a shock, frozen in the last moments of disbelief.

There's no sadness or pleasure in her eyes when she turns away — the body seems out of place, yes, but as with all other things, she imagines that there must have been a purpose, natural or otherwise.

Her sigh is soft. There's no point in fabricating empathy out here, so she lets herself feel empty instead. Robin won't stop her companion from approaching it if they want. Peacefully: ]

Do you think we should call the number first?

[Well, Donna had been about to step into a stall, but here she is, faced with someone new.]

The toilets. Donna Noble. Who the hell're you?

[She's had... a bit of a week, which might account for the bristling right back at the stranger. She probably needs to take it down a notch or two, but she really needs to pee.]

[ Well — unfortunately for Donna, bodily functions take second (or third, or fourth, etc.) place when panic is flaring in Robin's chest. Fingers are still clutching at her arms, staring back with an apparent loss for words. Sure, she got answers, and it takes a gap in her thoughts to see that she actually didn't ask the right ones. Or there's a lot missing. Or she's being crazy and can't remember why. ]

I — I need — I need to leave.

[ Irony: demanding names and forgetting to return the courtesy. Donna is released, and Robin turns to find the door. Door found, departure achieved, and the accosted woman can do what she came here to do. Robin will be only a few steps down the hall looking utterly lost whenever Donna makes her way back out, though. ]

[Donna... lets her go. She's hardly going to corner someone in here. It's a few minutes later that she steps out and sees the other woman still wandering about looking lost. Some guilt over how snappish she'd been flares in Donna's chest, and she heaves a sigh as she approaches. At least now she can think of doing something apart from dealing with her own immediate needs.]

Hey... sorry. You're new, right? Just suddenly turned up here?

[ Robin's panic is more subdued, but impossible to hide; she looks at Donna like she never expected to see her again, only to be grounded by the first little grains of hope in her questions. ]

Yes, [ Despite her best efforts to compose herself, Robin's voice still trembles. ] I don't know why, I — I don't remember ever seeing this place.

Yeah, no, that was me a few months ago. It's okay. It's... Let's try this again. I'm Donna. It's 2022, and you're on Earth in America. Does any of that mean anything to you?

[ Robin furrows her brows, either to find the right answer or question why Donna would even ask. That isn't fair, though, is it? Robin is the one looking and acting like she's out of her mind, and this is a stranger's attempt to help.

Tentatively: ]

Yes … Yeah. It's 2022. I'm in the United States. My name is Robin Becker.

[ All things that should show she's lucid. Or lucid enough. ]

Right. [She musters up her best smile. It's... stressed at the moment.] Okay, so you're in a place called Apex Detectives, Inc. No one's gonna hurt you here, but they're gonna want to bring you downstairs to get oriented. I can just take you down there myself instead of waiting for whatever security detail they're probably gonna call up. They'll make you read some sort of weird page that's supposed to help with everyone understanding each other, then they'll work on getting you assigned to a place to stay. They don't know why we're here, but a lot of us showed up just like you have. I only got here a few months ago.

Uh.

[The teenager flounders slightly, not entirely sure how to answer that question. He's already been walked through the introduction to this place, so he knows 1% more than Robin.] For sure, we've definitely been kidnapped, but... interdimensionally.

[Peter realizes how dumb that is and course corrects.] I swear I'm not crazy or anything, I'm still kinda trying to adjust to this too. It's way too much info to sort through at once, you know?

[ As much as they both try, if there's anything in Peter's answer that makes this less disorienting, Robin can't grasp it any more than he can express it. The glare subsides to helplessness, and she lets him go. ]

Kidnapped... Why were we kidnapped?

[ The shift in tone — from aggressive to fragile — is stark, but not immediate. Like the anger was peeled away, along with the tension in her fingers, or the thought of letting the Flood take over the young man. There's nothing to stop her from leaving him behind, she thinks. She still doesn't walk away. ]

It's... [Peter trails off, clearly unsure of how to answer this either. He settles on something a bit easier to digest in the moment.] We're here to help these people, this place with supernatural stuff.

It's not great, but- maybe we'll be able to go home soon?

[ Silence takes over as she thinks, but nothing comes. One can't provide a solution when they can't even explain the problem. ]

I don't know anyone here. [ Does she—? Peter mentioned something about dimensions. The only person that comes to mind is Jem. It isn't a comforting name. ] Why would they want my help?

[ Mentions of supernatural go unquestioned. ]

What's the name of this place?

[He'd felt it on her the moment they'd met up at the trailhead, that dark, foreboding, presence that lingered on those dedicated to dark powers. Those of a cult. It had set his attention on her even more than it might normally be as they navigated the path.

It's not unusual for Garner to be quiet, but he doesn't try for light conversation as they walk, allowing them both plenty of time in their own minds. At least until she stops, the sound of her footsteps halting just to his left. He stops as well, his face turning slightly towards her and brow creasing in wary confusion- at least until she speaks. Ah...something 'odd' to be found this time after all.]

Perhaps...they said they wanted evidence. [His voice is soft, but there's still some confusion to it. He can't hear anything, but there's a slight breeze and a small rustle of cloth and...the very familiar scent of blood. The crease in his brow smooths and his that wariness in him slips into his tone.] What do you see?

[ Robin's posture remains unchanged: polite, undisturbed. Helpful, if he needs her to be. ]

Oh, [ She begins, glancing at the body one more time. It takes her a moment to decide how she'd describe it. ] Someone who died here, probably not too long ago. The animals have taken what they wanted from him.

I think he was in a lot of pain. Maybe you have a different opinion?

[ A moment later, it's Garner's turn to be emotionlessly observed. She noticed his reaction to her presence. Perhaps they'll have stories to share sometime, and she will ask him about the eye. ]

[He turns his face towards her, clouded eyes not quite looking at her, but he listens. It's a decent description.

He takes careful steps forward, the butt of his glaive sweeping near the ground as he goes until it runs into the body. He crouches at its side, but doesn't touch it. Not yet, at least.]

It doesn't sound like there's a lot of activity in the wildlife nearby. They've taken what they wanted, but maybe not as much as they normally would. Something wrong with the meat, perhaps, or in the way they died.

[Garner stands again and steps away from the corpse to give it some space.]

There's a...what's the word...a picture-taker on your phone? Will you use it to take a picture of the body? I haven't figured out how to use it yet.

[ She glances between the stranger and the corpse, well-behaved and pleasantly formal. The perfect example of being still and looking pretty. ]

The camera. I brought it with me, yes. Shall I, then?

[ The small and elegant gesture is followed by the instructions given to them. She acts like she learned the basics and picked up on the rest on her own, which is more than enough. ]

What makes you say the animals didn't take as much as they normally would?

[Her companion crests the rise a moment later, at a steady pace that abruptly picks up speed as he spies the shape sprawled behind her. Not a run, exactly, but a brisk stride that could easily turn into a run should whatever felled the poor soul beside the path make an abrupt appearance in search of more prey.

Here, outside the confines of ADI's facilities, the prick and swivel of G'raha Tia's ears and the unhappy lash of his tail are hidden, leaving only the grimly assessing expression of a man who has seen far too many bodies in his lifetime.

It takes him a moment to answer, and his attention isn't entirely on her when he does - he's busy sweeping the area, searching for any sign of movement, or for tracks.

There aren't any, except for their own. Curious, that.]

Not yet. I don't think there's any immediate threat.

[He does glance at her then, brow furrowed.]

Pray, did you notice if it was snowing heavily last night?

[ As G'raha Tia diligently searches for clues and threats, Robin's eyes remain on him, undisturbed by the body, unconcerned about any signs of danger. The living are more interesting than the matters of the dead, she'd say. Most of the time. ]

No, I didn't. [ Her voice is soft, fading in more. ] Why do you ask?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

TDM #9

robin becker ( original )

Arrival

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Arrival

no subject

no subject

no subject

The Road We All Must Travel

no subject

no subject

no subject

Road

no subject