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Apocalypse How Mods ([personal profile] apocalypsehowmods) wrote in [community profile] redstringtheories2022-03-01 09:51 am
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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.
torsion: SMOOOOOOOTH SAILIN'! (fair winds.)

Jill Valentine | Resident Evil

[personal profile] torsion 2022-03-02 03:40 pm (UTC)(link)
01. ARRIVAL.
[ She doesn't have time to react. When she's grabbed she goes in for a big elbow to the face but it's no use; she doesn't suspect this place she's woken up at has anything to do with her fatigue, however. Jill had been hit by the brunt of a rocket launcher blast only moments ago and her ears still ring to silence, blurred into a half-memory of slamming into a cargo freight, back and arms first. She hadn't blinked so much as let her eyes flutter closed and stay that way, heavy with the exhaustion of fighting against insurmountable odds.

A pessimist at heart, she doesn't believe that she's been saved by her people at the BSAA quite yet. The smells are too familiar, to astringent, dragging her back through the past few years without control of her own body and it has her continue to struggle back against her potential captors. Her vision flickers in and out before she finds herself upright and escorted to the basement levels. Her eyes dart, looking for any route of escape amid inner panic, but eventually she simple settles on looking at her companion as they're ushered into a room.
]

Are you alright? [ Her voice low, but not a whisper. Their escort can easily hear her. She's always at her best when she's taking care of others and it's a fair way to get the focus off her own worries. ] Do you know where we are?

[ Somehow, she's guessing they don't, but it seems answers are on the way. ]

02. NETWORK POST; TEXT, 2AM.
What's a skeleton's favorite musical instrument? :)

03. THE ROAD WE ALL MUST TRAVEL.
[ "Paranormal" is new to her, but documenting strange things and investigating what might very well be a crime scene is something that Jill is familiar with. It's in her bones, seeping into flesh and sinew. It's part of her life's work and it brings her to a familiar territory that stresses her out far less than it might have earlier. It's something she can use to distract herself from being here, from her other goals where she's come from and the eeriness of this place -- eerie isn't exactly something she's inexperienced with, after all.

Jill awaits her partner for the mission with slight, invisible impatience that rocks her on the inside. Thus far they aren't late, but she hates being the only one that's early. She's prepared enough for something solid and physical and real with the massive combat knife strapped at her calf and the gun holstered at her hip, but she makes no indication of readying either at the moment. They're precautionary measures, although for what she isn't quite sure. All she knows is they're the closest thing to feeling like home right now.

She taps her boot a touch, letting the impatience boil over to the exterior.
]

WILD CARD OPTION + OOC INFO.
[ Feel free to PM me or hit up my HMD to contact me! Jill is from the end of Desperate Escape and I'm open to a lot of things, whether action or SOL, so feel free to ask for an individualized starter or drop one of your own. Contact me for Discord or Plurk! ]
whisperedone: (12)

Network

[personal profile] whisperedone 2022-03-02 08:02 pm (UTC)(link)
[Why isn't he asleep? Because nightmares must and at least this little post reads otself out to him in the darkness of his room and makes him smile.]

an obone?
torsion: (the heartbreaker.)

[personal profile] torsion 2022-03-04 04:35 pm (UTC)(link)
[ She struggles with sleep these days; red eyes flashing in the corner of any room. Gloved hands around her neck when she finally drifts off, gentle caresses of the small of her back. She's more alert than awake, but she'd rather play the game of "I'm fine" than anything else. ]

Ha ha, that's a good one!
But the answer is "trombone".
whisperedone: (13)

[personal profile] whisperedone 2022-03-06 04:10 am (UTC)(link)
[He grins at the answer. Ah, that is a good one. Alright, if he and mystery person were seeking late night entertainment...]

Where do the moons go to get their qualifications?
torsion: (sleeper hold.)

[personal profile] torsion 2022-03-08 05:44 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It's a good way to pass the time, make it a little less miserable. ]

That's one I haven't heard before.
I don't know. Astro-something?
whisperedone: (11)

[personal profile] whisperedone 2022-03-08 05:47 pm (UTC)(link)
moon-iversity.

[He smiles to himself as he types the answer. He'd always been fond of that one.]
torsion: (anchors away!)

[personal profile] torsion 2022-03-08 05:57 pm (UTC)(link)
OH NO I SHOULD'VE GOTTEN THAT ONE ha ha ha :)
I can't believe I've never heard that one from a friend of mine.

What kind of birthday does a really old buffalo celebrate?
whisperedone: (5)

[personal profile] whisperedone 2022-03-08 06:17 pm (UTC)(link)
we'll blame the hour

oh no. i'm not sure i know.
torsion: (knee lift.)

[personal profile] torsion 2022-03-09 06:15 pm (UTC)(link)
What do we blame in give or take 59 minutes?

Bison-tennial. ;)
whisperedone: (7)

[personal profile] whisperedone 2022-03-09 11:35 pm (UTC)(link)
the phase of the moon. we can get creative.

[There's a pause.]

i'm sure if i knew more about buffalo, i'd understand. i apologize, they aren't particularly prevalent where i'm from.

also what's the purpose of the symbols you keep using? i'm intrigued.
faerielights: (nope)

Arrival

[personal profile] faerielights 2022-03-06 04:52 am (UTC)(link)
Underground supervillain lair?

[Molly's tone is bright and irreverent, but there's a brittle gleam in her eyes, and strain at the corners of her mouth, and every inch of her nearly-six-foot frame radiates tension, like she's bracing for a blow. Or about to throw one, which is possibly the worse option.]

I'm fine. [That's a bald-faced lie. Aside from her less-than-fine emotional state, she's limping badly - not a new injury, but one she's become abruptly aware of again after more than a year spent not feeling it - and feels like the marrow's been scraped out of her bones by someone who doesn't believe in anaesthetic.] Thinking of inviting everyone out for a drink once they realize this is all a big misunderstanding. You?
torsion: (french kiss.)

[personal profile] torsion 2022-03-08 05:54 pm (UTC)(link)
[ That manages to have Jill laugh, a rumble of her shoulders before she huffs out something between a sigh and a heady chuckles. Her voice is softer than one might expect from her appearance, less rough around the edges and more inviting than the bark and bite from only moments ago might have suggested. ]

I've seen too many of those and I hate to say it, but looks plenty that way to me.

[ The other woman is more than half a foot taller than to her, so Jill has to tilt her head slightly in order to catch her eyes but there's nothing awkward about it. It's clear that Jill is used to being the short one in the room, though her attitude suggests she doesn't seem to mind (aside from when she needs to reach something just a little too high on a shelf, anyway). She doesn't spend too much time sizing her up, but she does seem to be the same kind of "fine" that Jill is, though extent of injury or discomfort is currently unknown.

She might have a better idea if they were more actively moving and Jill wasn't more laser-focused on their surroundings and her distinct lack of an arsenal at her side. Knife has been given back -- probably a mistake on their captors part if she had any say in it -- and there's a Škorpion vz. 61 at her hip, holstered with safety on. Jill has reached for neither thus far, suggesting that she's more friendly than ready to fire despite the circumstances.
]

Now? I'm thinking about a drink. [ A bit of banter to dodge the darker depths and implications of what they're dealing with isn't too bad at all. ] I'm a bourbon girl, but I don't mind a scotch whiskey. How about you?

[ Jill starts to crescent the room, almost stalk it as she listens and looks at tidbits of divulged information. It feels like a dream and she's not sure she believes in any of this. She just got hit too hard and this is the kind of weird shit her brain comes up with, that's all.

She offers a gloved hand, slick fabric attached to the arm of the battlesuit she wears. It's seamless and glorifies every curve and muscle she sports but Jill doesn't seem uncomfortable with it.
]

Jill Valentine. Don't suppose you're also with the BSAA?
graveyounglady: (smile | gentle)

un: mercyme; text (cw: mild body horror)

[personal profile] graveyounglady 2022-03-09 05:04 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, if you are making instruments of skeletons, then there can be no better piece than a bone flute! I had one at home that was very dear to me.

But for something rarer, perhaps a harp? We had some of my grandfather's bones shaped for the little hand harp my grandmother would play for us in the evenings.
torsion: (graveyard smash.)

un: j.valentine

[personal profile] torsion 2022-03-09 06:16 pm (UTC)(link)
It was a joke, but that's interesting information. I've heard of things like that before but I don't think it's commonly practiced anymore where I'm from.

"Where I'm from," that's a new one in this regard, ha ha.

That sounds nice, though. When it comes to music, I can only really play piano.
graveyounglady: (smile | tightlipped)

[personal profile] graveyounglady 2022-03-13 05:50 am (UTC)(link)
Forgive me. It may be better to explain when I am from, as well as where. I hail from a world called Amia. I have been told the times align with the 'medieval period' here. I do not fully understand it, but there are things I do not grasp so quickly. Jokes maybe one of them.

But I am sure it was very funny! :)

I am learning to play the piano, myself. It is a new and exciting instrument for me. My roommate is much better at it than I am. Perhaps you could come visit and play, if you'd like. I live in ADI's Housing, Apartment Block B.
Edited 2022-03-13 05:51 (UTC)