TDM #20

[apocalypsehowmods]

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➥ Arrival

(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.)

➥ The Wheels on the Bus

(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.

➥ Wax On, Wax Off

(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?

➥ Storied Susurrations

(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.

➥ Mod Notes

• 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.
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Comments

[defendwhatremains]

Well, she has a point. It would likely be best if he put an earnest effort into hunting down more clothes. Tomorrow, then. He'd simply have to find someone to help him, either among the others in the headquarters or at whatever shop he settled on. If only the styles weren't all so loud.

He's about to offer something about the state of his dress when she tenses and flings an arm out in front of him as though she intended to defend him. For just a moment, he thinks he knows why as long, spindly legs seem to stretch and skitter like the largest spider to ever exist.

"Good god..." Johnny turns to look closer, but it's...a vehicle. That doesn't make him relax in the slightest. He stays perfectly still just behind her. "Buses don't have legs here, do they? Should we be moving?" It was still coming their way, after all, and ever closer. They should be moving..

[graveyounglady]

"They don't. No." Her hand stays at her back, but her eyes flicker toward the woods nearby. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees it again, those legs. "I think moving's probably the best. You go on and back up quick as you can. Keep your head turned to the side. Don't look at it straight on. We'll get out of this, don't you worry. She takes a step backward, making a motion for him to start going, as well.

They're too close to Dogtown. Whatever this thing is, it's undoubtedly related to that. A monster spider masquerading as a bus?

[defendwhatremains]

"Right....right." He can't help the waver in his voice, try as he might to keep it contained, but he does make to take a step back. If he could. Is he such a coward that fear has immobilized him?

An attempt to force himself back with the bus ever-looming, proves...no. This isn't him.

"I can't move. Christ, my legs won't budge. If you can go, you should!" He might be a coward, but he at least wasn't about to let some woman who'd happened upon him fall victim to a monstrosity when she could have made an escape.

[graveyounglady]

Mercy looks back at him. "I ain't leaving you, sir. I'll carry you if-"

She breaks off as she tries to move and just... doesn't. Confusion is quickly overwritten by a lance of fear that shoots through her. She can't move. Her head can turn, but her arms and legs seem to be rigid, like she's being held by and unseen force.

Mercy Graves swears in the least lady-like way she can think of. "That toad-licking, bilge-swilling turd in the soup!" Her hackles are up, and she's fighting the hold on herself to no avail. So, she lashes out at the bus that's creeping closer, nearly upon them. "Gotta snare a body like a yearling hunter, do you? Too old and lazy to chase? You knobby-kneed bird-bait!"

[defendwhatremains]

The laugh he's startled into is strangled and dies quickly, a brief release of tension in him as the thing trundles....or skitters closer. If it seemed offended by her words, Johnny's not sure he'd notice.

It comes up before them and stops, it's door opening with a creak that sees the steps covered in something white and...spongy. Something confirmed as he fines his feet taking him forward and onto that first step.

"Fuck...I..my lighter-" He tries to reach for his pocket as his eyes fall on an incomprehensible number of webs and thick sacks fill the surfaces, wheels, and seats of the bus. And again, he cannot move except where he's bid. Was this how he was going to die? On a bus? A bus inhabited by monsters spiders? He'd have preferred the assassins a couple years ago.

[graveyounglady]

Mercy follows after him in their unwilling but orderly little queue of two. She tries to trip herself, stop her legs and arms, will her body to be her own once more, but nothing works. She finds herself stepping into the horrific bus and the doors close behind her. Gus remains where it is as its new passengers take their 'seats' on some of the sacks, then gets up and skitters onward. Mercy's eyes fall on another passenger, a wide-eyed teen who has been covered in webs to the point that only his eyes and his mousy brown hair are visible. It's clear he's been crying, and there's a muffled moaning coming from him. His mouth is completely covered.

She looks to Johnny. "Maybe there's something we can still do. Where's your lighter?" She would rather go up in flames than die like this. Aelwyn would have to forgive her for that.

[defendwhatremains]

He takes his seat like it's perfectly normal. Like he can't feel the way it slightly depresses under him or the feeling of wriggling he could almost swear shifted under the silk strands. It sends a shudder up his spine.

"In my coat pocket. The one closest to you. If you can move at all..." He doesn't want to die in fire. He doesn't really want to die at all, not yet...but better their choice than whatever this was about to be.

Something skitters at the edge of Johnny's vision and what he swears looks like a spindly leg reaches from nowhere to turn Gus' wheel as they continue on its circuit.

[graveyounglady]

Mercy tries to move. She tries so desperately to move she can feel sweat beading her brow for the exertion she's putting into it... and the equal force pushing back against her, keeping her still. She feels something tickling her ankles and looks down to see an army of little spiders beginning to wrap silk around her feet and calves.

"I can't. Oh, gods. Oh, gods. Pelor, please. Shine your light on this creature. Burn it to ash and cleanse the world of its filth!"

[defendwhatremains]

Johnny's never been much of a godly or praying man, why would God do something for you when your own two hands could make it happen? Except his own two hands were curled politely in his lap as tiny spiders scuttle around his legs, leaving fine wisps of webbing around them. God is about all there is left and he can hear her calling to someone. But there's no 'light' or fire, just the sounds of distress from the other person and them.

It puts him in mind of the library and the voice that whispered to him impossibly from the stacks. He's always been the sort to get himself out of trouble before asking for help, but every inch of him strains against nothing but his own skin and fear turns his gut. "Lavender Jack...if ever I needed you..." Except he's not here. He wasn't even in Gallery. Johnny's 'prayer' to a man is no more heard than it seems the one to a god is and he tries to simply straighten his back as best he can.

"No need to face death begging, miss."

[graveyounglady]

"I ain't afraid of dying, sir. It's everything that leads up to it. And a place like this? It's the not dying and seeing something worse that scares me." Wrapped in a cocoon for ages, unable to see or hear or do anything. She's probably not helping his anxiety levels, but it's honest.

"Spiders is some of the worse, even if they don't seem it. They're all about controlling folk."

[defendwhatremains]

"Spiders?" He tries not to sound incredulous, but it's difficult when she's talking about spiders controlling people. Somewhere in his mind, he remembers something about a Web Power or whatever all they were trying to tell him. His head had been spinning so much, he'd been trying to control himself rather than believe some mysticism propaganda.

Now he thinks perhaps he should have paid better attention.

"Well...if we don't die, perhaps there's still hope for us. That poor fellow over there sounds terrified, but alive. Perhaps...we'll just need to find a way to save ourselves or hope for rescue." Brave words when the webbing is covering his lap and hands now. If only he couldn't feel the crawl of little legs over his skin so acutely. He closes his eyes tight but forces them open again. He would at least see what happened. "Surely you have someone who will miss you when you don't come home?"

[graveyounglady]

"She's gone right now." No. There's more than Aelwyn, but right now, that's who Mercy's mind is fixed on. "Haven't even got to tell her 'I love you' in weeks. She's away on a secret mission. I- It might be a long while, sir."

And then she manages to wrench her thoughts away from that. "But... but I'm living in a Flophouse. There's more'n me who sleeps there. And I've got work scheduled in the morning. They might... send someone.

"You got someone?"

[defendwhatremains]

His heart aches for her and her question just twists the knife. 'I need to build a stronger version of myself.' And here his stronger version was, being bound in spiders and quaking on the inside when the outside wasn't cooperating. What would he say just now?

'Chin up, old sport, we've seen more grisly things. This won't best us yet!' Yes something like that...

"No. I'm too new here and anyone who might miss me is in Gallery. We'll simply have to hope. But...madam, even if I had a choice, I would still see this through with you, better together with a stranger than alone."