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TDM #20

(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.) You might even arrive in a section of building that has been demolished, leaving a pit of rubble open to the sky–hope you're up on your tetanus shots! 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. The one exception is the demolition zone off what used to be one corner of the building: it seems the security teams are keeping a particularly close eye on that area to document new arrivals and bring them in quickly.
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.)
(cw: spiders; spider eggs; swarms; uncanny valley; loss of bodily autonomy; full encasement)
Beware the bus.
His name is Gus.
Don't shout.
Don't run.
Don't make a fuss.
Gus the bus.
Bus the Gus.
He's big and bright.
A mean old cuss.
The sing-song rhymes haunt the streets of Gloucester this month with young people, in particular, muttering to each other about a haunted bus that just has 'G1_15' fixed on its scrolling route sign. They've taken to calling it Gus, and regaling each other with tales of seeing it picking up and dropping off vagrants late and night when no one else is around to see it.
Enough sleuthing will uncover that these sightings, such as they are, seem to happen around 2 AM along Dory Road, where the Dogtown Trailhead existed before ADI and the local police force had the park shut down. Gus doesn't appear most nights, but for the lucky few who do spot him prowling, two things will become immediately clear:
1. He only seems to turn up when there are two or fewer people around; and
2. Gus is not a bus.
The hulking form that 'rolls' down the street does, indeed, look like a bus… head on. But catch him from the corner of your eyes and you will see that he skitters. The 'wheels' seem to extend in arachnid legs with two poking out from each well. His headlights are fractured, as well, with eight distinct lights winking away in the darkness.
Should one be foolish enough to remain at the single bus stop on this street or approach when they see him coming, they'll find their muscles locking up and, whether they want it or not, their body will move to board Gus. He'll settle down and let you in, should this happen. Welcome to a ride you won't soon forget.
The interior of the bus is filled with webbing and enormous white egg sacks. Try as you might, you can't seem to stop yourself from walking down the aisle and settling upon one of the sacks. You can speak. You can even scream, if you'd like. One of your fellow passengers may be doing so as small spiders swarm across them, slowly wrapping them in silk. But you can't get up, can't move to get off or fight the forces holding you. And as you sit, the swarm finds you and begins to wrap you in your own cocoon.
Once a person has been fully encased in the webbing, they will find themselves slowly losing consciousness. Instead of death on the other end, though, they'll awaken the next morning at the bus stop on Dory Road. somewhere on their person they'll be sporting a new tattoo… one that looks like spider webs.
It's probably fine.
(cw: altered perception; characters given cause to doubt their reality)
A single disturbance at a supermarket wouldn't have been enough to grab ADI's attention–Karens will be Karens, after all. But when two videos pop up on social media in one week featuring individuals in the produce aisle of two different Gloucester stores having what appear to be very similar mental breakdowns, it's worth at least a casual investigation. It's a bonus assignment, with ADI offering anyone who is willing to check out the grocery stores in the area a small payment for time and reimbursement for any related purchases.
For the majority of investigators, this little assignment is a big dead end. Local supermarkets, including the two with known events, are to all appearances ordinary grocery stores selling ordinary produce. Just a few people will see an odd sheen to the fruit that's heaped up in the produce bins. Upon closer inspection by those select individuals, the fruit in question appears to be made of wax. Touching it, weighing it in one's hand, smelling it, cutting it open, or even eating it just confirms what they see: it's wax through and through, too lightweight to be real, too smooth and brightly colored and false, a mouthful of lies.
To the people around them, though, obliviously picking out what they believe to be real food, the fruit remains as real and as heavy with juice as one would expect from real, solid food grown from the earth. For the majority of people, both local and interdimensional, the fruit is fruit by every measure, including taste. It's not especially perfect or delicious, not anything out of the ordinary in today's world of hothouse agriculture: it's simply fruit from the supermarket, as one would expect to buy on any ordinary day.
Food or wax? Are you digging your teeth into your next meal, or into a lump of inedible decor? Is perceiving the fruit as wax a delusion, or a hidden truth? Who can say?
(cw: compulsion)
There are many who would claim to hear a siren’s call to their local library. The lure of knowledge, escapism, or simply a quiet nook to help maintain focus, there’s an appeal to wandering the stacks for all kinds of people. Even if you’re not usually such a bookworm you might feel a bit of a draw when you happen past the unassuming building just West of Downtown. It’s ignorable, if gut feelings really aren’t your thing, but the curious might find themselves called closer.
As soon as your shoes touch the floor of the open main room, the call you’ve been hearing becomes a little louder, if only a little. There’s a whisper near your ear, like someone just a bit behind you speaking too low to hear. Someone familiar. Someone trusted.
Delve deeper. The voice gets more distinct, the words recognizable even if they never go over a whisper. It coils through your ears and your mind and your limbs, a sweet ribbon of promise. Come closer, don’t you want to hear? Don’t you want to know? Look harder.
Towards the back of the main room, near where a cluster of tables stands vigil, sits the history section. Local, State, Country, World, a wide manner of options present their spines proudly, though not a one seems to lay claim to the source of the whisper. Best just to listen, then, to your dear friend’s message.
Those who listen to the words will find information is their reward, information about them. Information about home. Is it the secrets in your past? The concerns of the present? Knowledge impossible to confirm from your future? Perhaps you should listen longer. Perhaps come back and check again. Or maybe just ask your friend nearby, they certainly seem to be listening keenly.
- ARRIVAL (March 1-31): Two people will almost 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 (or the rubble that used to be part of 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, as well as information about the state of ADI Headquarters.
- THE WHEELS ON THE BUS (March 1-15): Gus will only appear when there are two or fewer people on the street. There is no way to stop yourself from boarding Gus should you become trapped in his control, nor can characters physically fight against remaining where they are in the bus. Gus does not affect the thoughts of anyone he meets, merely controls their bodies. Those who wind up riding him and earning a spider web tattoo are free to decide where this tattoo is and what, precisely, it looks like. For the moment, there doesn't appear to be any ill effect from the tattoo. Maybe your new friends just want to make sure you remember. Characters may ride Gus more than once. They will acquire additional tattoos for each ride.
- WAX ON, WAX OFF (March 1-15): Any characters who see the fruit as wax will see wax regardless of which stores in Gloucester they visit; characters who see the fruit as fruit will see real fruit regardless of the store they visit. Almost all members of the general public see real fruit; a smaller majority of ADI investigators see real fruit.
- STORIED SUSURRATIONS (March 1-15): Characters who go to listen to the books whisper to them will, indeed, be told of some canon information relevant to them either from their past, present, or future! Any characters grouped up will hear the same message as those nearby, as the whispers carry on individually in the voice of someone the character trusts. The message doesn’t seem to change with new or prolonged visits, just the same message offered over and over again without a source.