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memesville2020-10-25 11:03 pm
robbies) wrote in memesville2020-10-25 11:03 pm
Entry tags:
TDM - OCTOBER 2020
TEST DRIVE MEME - OCTOBER 2020
Everyone's entitled to one good scare.
CW: Violence, death, mouth trauma, vomiting, needles, razors
“Help me. Please, help me…”
A child’s voice, calling out for aid. There’s no rhyme or reason for when it comes to you. It’s so quiet, a whisper in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind. Were it not for the sharp, stabbing pain it pulls out of you, you could ignore it. You could even pretend it’s just your imagination.
It all happens so quickly and powerfully. Left in the dust, your brain struggles to process it all. Blacking out is the least it can do, but it’s also all it can do, and it does so before you even have a chance to fully register just how young the voice is, and how deeply, heartbreakingly lost it sounds.
When you finally awaken with your bare feet tangled in soft sheets, a layer of fuzzy fleece or slinky silk clinging to your body like another layer of skin, the sunlight pouring in from the window next to your bed momentarily blinding you, and the cries of happy children playing baseball outside of it carrying faintly, it all becomes very clear—
Something is horribly wrong.
A child’s voice, calling out for aid. There’s no rhyme or reason for when it comes to you. It’s so quiet, a whisper in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind. Were it not for the sharp, stabbing pain it pulls out of you, you could ignore it. You could even pretend it’s just your imagination.
It all happens so quickly and powerfully. Left in the dust, your brain struggles to process it all. Blacking out is the least it can do, but it’s also all it can do, and it does so before you even have a chance to fully register just how young the voice is, and how deeply, heartbreakingly lost it sounds.
When you finally awaken with your bare feet tangled in soft sheets, a layer of fuzzy fleece or slinky silk clinging to your body like another layer of skin, the sunlight pouring in from the window next to your bed momentarily blinding you, and the cries of happy children playing baseball outside of it carrying faintly, it all becomes very clear—
Something is horribly wrong.
OCTOBER 1st.
It becomes very clear very quickly that this isn’t a simple kidnapping.
By the time you make it down to the living room, you’ll notice that the television is on; someone must have forgotten to turn it off before they went to bed. On it, a cartoon pack of cigarettes and accompanying cigarette dancers prance around a black and white pumpkin patch, joined by dancing skeletons, ghosts and witches as a cheerful little earworm blares: ”Thirty days til Halloween, Halloween, Halloween, thirty days til Halloween—“ |
GETTING TO KNOW THE NEIGHBORS.
| As you get acclimated, you gradually begin to learn more about this strange new world you’ve found yourself in. You’re in a neighborhood on the east side of a town called Santa Rosita located… somewhere in California (wherever or whatever that might be). The year is 1961. If it wasn’t clear enough, your neighbors are more than willing to humor you if you ask. Even if you accost them with questions and demands. Sure, you and your family are a little kooky, and you have a very overactive imagination, but the key to any good joke is playing along! And how could something like “I’m from the future, from another world” be anything but a joke? A. AUNT MYRNA'S PARTY CHEESE SALAD.Over the course of the week, your neighbors will come by unannounced, each with a new homecooked meal to welcome you to their cozy little side of town. Meatloaf, potato salad, lamb chops. Gelatin molds — lots of gelatin molds.Someone even comes by to drop off a gelatinous yellow lump of pineapple, green peppers, celery and yellow cheese swimming in a soupy mixture of sour and whipped cream. “It’s my aunt Myrna’s recipe!” they gush once they drop the casserole tin into your hands, proceeding to rattle off every ingredient. Well, at least you won’t be starving anytime soon. When you bring it back in to your kitchen - and its cheery wallpaper and its floral patterned Pyrex dishware, you and your new...family(?) all stare at the cheese salad, the gelatin, the curiously frosted meatloaf spread. A smorgasbord courtesy of the insistent generosity! Who will take the first bite? |
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B. DON'T BE A SQUARE!
You can only avoid the cheer and the neighbors for so long, even as you sit inside enjoying all the amenities of your new home. The television can only turn its volume up to five, after all! One bright and sunny Saturday, the weather crisp and clear, news broadcasts and reruns of The Ed Sullivan Show are drowned out by the music in the neighborhood. Eventually it’s too much to bear — you simply must put on your shoes and go discover the source of that infernal racket.Why, it’s the block party! Haven’t you seen the invitation — with instructions — sitting in your mailbox, silly? Wear a badge so everyone on the block can know you’re new and welcome you to their extended family!
Well! Each neighbor was supposed to set up a table with snacks and drinks and entertainment on their front lawn. Carter Mayhew, one of your Robbie neighbors, has a whole ring toss obstacle course set up for boys to play with, and his wife is cheerfully and blandly instructing a group of girls on jump rope rhymes. Colorful streamers hang from every lamppost and mailbox, balloons and party favors galore. Like you, there are even a few newcomers to Santa Rosita that are caught just as unaware of this event — though others are being welcomed in by husbands and wives and children, caught in conversations about building decks and the upcoming Halloween festivities.
Before you can decide if returning home or joining the party is your choice, a plate with chips and dips and yes, more gelatin is shoved into your hands and a party hat snapped on to your head.
“The guest of honor has arrived! Come and meet your neighbors, neighbor!”
THROUGHOUT OCTOBER.
|
Life falls into a peaceful haze for the next several days. Dull, unassuming, tranquil. As the month drags on, the spirit of Halloween begins to manifest in Santa Rosita, from the pumpkins people start putting out on their doorsteps to the smiling faces of paper skeletons pressed against their windows. And then, towards the end of the month, something terrible happens. You hear it first through word of mouth, rippling through Santa Rosita like a wave, dark murmurs accompanied by sad sighs and downturned eyes. Soon, you start to read about it. Grim business, they say. A tragedy. How could something like this happen. People stop talking about it by the end of the week. Best just to forget about it. Every day, that cigarette commercial comes on. It’s impossible to escape it. And every day, the number of days in the song changes, counting down. ”Thirteen days till Halloween—” “Eight more days til Halloween—” “Three more days til Halloween, Halloween, Halloween…” |
HALLOWEEN.
CW: Violence, death, mouth trauma, vomiting, needles, razors
|
October 31st. It sneaks up on you whether you like it or not. When dawn breaks on Halloween day, things are as serene as they’ve ever been as men do yard work, raking leaves as their wives bake fresh pie and cookies in the house, the spicy scent of cinnamon, apple and pumpkin wafting through the neighborhood on chilly October wind. There’s a smile on every child’s face as they skip off the school bus in the afternoon, running into their houses to get their costumes ready. As it begins to get dark, the residents of Santa Rosita start lighting their jack-o-lanterns. One by one, little balls of light flicker to life on every porch and doorstep, jagged smiles grinning in the dark. For the entire night, nobody blows the candle inside their pumpkins out. It’s a tradition, a very old one, and traditions are just another way of saying rules. And Halloween in Santa Rosita, as it turns out, lives and dies by the rules. |
A. ALWAYS CHECK YOUR CANDY.
Halloween isn’t just for the kids, although they certainly make up the bulk of who you’ll see out and about on the streets. Walking through Santa Rosita, your neighbors are as generous with handing out treats as they are with handing out gelatin molds and pot roasts, and they don’t discriminate. Adults are received just as warmly as children; the worst one can expect is a quirked eyebrow if they show up to a house without a costume.Apples, packs of gum, homemade cookies. Chocolate bars, nickels, popcorn balls. Your neighbors hand out all sorts of treats, most of them homemade. The Robbies are no exception, and it’s their treats that seem a bit more high quality than most, some of the candy they hand out being obviously expensive, brand names. The good stuff. They drop each treat into your bag with those same pleasant, mild expressions and too-tight smiles you’ve grown used to in your short time here.
Eventually, as everyone winds up doing at some point in the night, you decide to start digging into your treat bag to sample some of your well-earned goods — maybe in the comfort of your home, maybe outside on the streets. And that’s when the fun begins.
Maybe you bite into metal, the razor sharp end of a blade embedded into the apple or candy bar you’ve picked out burying itself in your gums, or splitting your tongue. Maybe it’s a needle, impaling itself straight through the roof of your mouth or a cheek. Or maybe it’s nothing that obvious. Maybe the realization that something is wrong comes moments after you’ve devoured that chocolate bar or cookie, the bitter aftertaste of rat poison hitting the back of your throat along with bile and the rest of the contents of your stomach as they rise up and out of your mouth.
Or maybe you’ll bite into plain, sweet chocolate or fresh fruit. That’s also part of the surprise. You really don’t know what you’ll get until you start eating.
B. ALWAYS RESPECT THE DEAD.
At ten o’clock, all the television sets in the neighborhood turn on, blaring to life right in the middle of that omnipresent cigarette commercial. The volume begins to rise of its own accord as your television starts to pick up interference, bursts of static squealing amidst the rising, screaming chorus of ”HAPPY HAPPY HALLOWEEN, HALLOWEEN, HALLOWEEN!”Breaking through the static, garbled and tinny, a child’s voice cries out.
“Can’t— I can’t hold them— back— Pumpkin— don’t blow the— out—”
And just as quickly as it cut in, the voice cuts back out. Commercial jingle notwithstanding, you’re alone once more. But not for long.
The doorbell rings. You can see them outside from your window: costumed children. Their masks and clothes are grimy and ragged from the muddy, slimy water they’ve been decomposing in for over a week. When they come to your door, squelching wetly as they shamble up the porch steps, they ring the bell or knock, as all polite children do. If you don’t let them in, they’ll find their own way, always by force. And once they find you, all they can gurgle in their reedy, waterlogged voices is, ”Trick or treat.”
From there, they attack.
With superhuman strength and speed, they tear and rip at anything they can get their hands on — clothing, skin, muscle, face, eyes. Being short and small, despite their strength, they're at a distinct disadvantage. They can even be thrown off, with some effort. But they don’t stay down for long, and attempting to hurt or mortally wound them only stalls them for a few moments, if that. How can you kill something that’s already dead?
Some in the neighborhood are willing to try and find out.
The only houses they seem to ignore completely are the ones with lit jack-o-lanterns still outside. They’ll loiter outside these houses, staring straight ahead at your door or window like they can see exactly where you are. But sooner or later, they’ll pass by and move onto the next house.
As long as the candles in carved pumpkins stay lit.
OOC INFO
Hello, and welcome to We're Still Here's first TDM! Here's a few things we'd like you to keep in mind:
The TDM is canon. You can treat this as the game's first real event and pick and choose what threads you would like your character to remember when they enter the game. For characters who app into the game, the events of the TDM will be treated like a dream. Upon awakening from it, characters will find that time has jumped ahead to December 1st. You may also feel free to use similar reality and/or time distortions to explain why the family members your characters have in the TDM aren't the same as the ones they may be assigned to in the game proper.
If you would like to have Halloween content in your relaxed housing prompts, please feel free! You are not beholden to follow our prompts exactly so long as the spirit is maintained.
There is no Network prompt listed, but feel free to wildcard one for your characters anyway.
Although the TDM is canon in the sense that characters are free to remember its events when they app into the game, it does not count as an official plot heavy event, meaning that characters will not receive regains from participating in it.
With regards to the dead trick-or-treaters: you may NPC them however you'd like, but keep the details we've listed in their prompt in mind. They are supernaturally fast and strong, will ignore houses as long as they have a lit pumpkin on the porch outside, and will try to enter each house the moment the candle in the pumpkin goes out. Additionally, they can't be killed, but they can be momentarily stalled by injuring them. By November 1st, 6AM, they will disappear the moment the sun comes out.
The TDM is canon. You can treat this as the game's first real event and pick and choose what threads you would like your character to remember when they enter the game. For characters who app into the game, the events of the TDM will be treated like a dream. Upon awakening from it, characters will find that time has jumped ahead to December 1st. You may also feel free to use similar reality and/or time distortions to explain why the family members your characters have in the TDM aren't the same as the ones they may be assigned to in the game proper.
If you would like to have Halloween content in your relaxed housing prompts, please feel free! You are not beholden to follow our prompts exactly so long as the spirit is maintained.
There is no Network prompt listed, but feel free to wildcard one for your characters anyway.
Although the TDM is canon in the sense that characters are free to remember its events when they app into the game, it does not count as an official plot heavy event, meaning that characters will not receive regains from participating in it.
With regards to the dead trick-or-treaters: you may NPC them however you'd like, but keep the details we've listed in their prompt in mind. They are supernaturally fast and strong, will ignore houses as long as they have a lit pumpkin on the porch outside, and will try to enter each house the moment the candle in the pumpkin goes out. Additionally, they can't be killed, but they can be momentarily stalled by injuring them. By November 1st, 6AM, they will disappear the moment the sun comes out.
Cassandra | Tangled: The Series | OTA
[OOC: feel free to be Cassandra's spouse.]
[There's no way Cassandra could ever deny a cry for help, but her attempt is cut short immediately by the swirl of darkness enveloping her mind. Suddenly, she's nothing.
And then she wakes up.
The sensation of soft, clean linens against her immediately conflicts with the thick weather-worn blanket she'd wrapped in under the starts a moment earlier. Or had it been a moment earlier? Where was she? She had no memory of checking into an inn, or changing into a silky nightgown - she didn't even own one! She rises in a fog, wracking her brain for solutions... until she spots something and double takes.
It's not a painting, but a photo; a brand new invention that hadn't even come to Corona yet. Innocuously sitting on a nightstand that didn't belong to her. Yet it was her. With someone she didn't recognize, at a wedding? HER wedding.
That gets her to venture on, out of the bedroom and into more pictures. Frozen images of her smiling face, surrounded by people she couldn't recognize. It twists something in Cassandra's chest more and more, her attempts to get away from it failing until she's barely at the front door and finds yet another frame of her wedding day.
A cry of frustration. A shattering of glass. These will draw anyone's attention to the main living room of the house, where the source is obvious. Cassandra, the remains of the frame on the floor, which she had just smashed against the wall.
Attempts to step towards her will yield a defensive stance... and a long shard of glass held out in her hand.]
Stay back! Who are you?
[B-1; Don't be a square]
[A few days later and things have... settled. As much as they can in this upside-down nightmare. Cass, at the very least, doesn't feel as though she's on the verge of a breakdown anymore. Her stay here, for the moment, seems indefinite, but she now knows that she isn't the only one stuck in it.
But then the neighbors decide to put on a party. Hardly a problem in itself - parties and festivals were mainstays of Coronan culture; fun and harmless, even if Cass thought the kingdom occasionally went overboard with how often it hosted celebrations. What's bad is the insistence that Cassandra simply must come out and introduce herself to everyone in the neighborhood.
Could be a trap. Probably is. But maybe she'd learn a few things about the locals.
Cass arrives at the block party with a fresh button down shirt, a pilfered pair of slacks, and a fake smile. Not that anyone will know better; who cares when she's so nice! She smiles and shakes hands, even tries out the jump ropes, which she can do on one foot. All while dancing around matters of how she's doing, and plates of gelatin, with all the energy the former handmaiden could muster.
But that just means the more keen-eyed will spot her sneaking away from the party to find a place to sit and breathe. Behind a tree, a bush, it doesn't matter. Just somewhere she can tear off this badge and the stupid party hat.
Maybe you follow her, or maybe she's happened across your hiding place. Either way, Cass only has one thing to say.]
If you're part of everything going on out there, I'm really not in the mood for more gelatin.
[B-2; Green stuff and chunks of carrots]
[It had to happen eventually. Someone's caught Cass and... handed her a plate of gelatin. A whole plate.
The mass wriggles maddeningly before her eyes, green and full of.... things. She could only imagine what the shapes floating in the middle of the gelatin were, and those thoughts churned her stomach.]
Seriously, who is eating this junk?
[A whisper probably meant for herself, but loud enough that anyone nearby will know just what she means.]
[C; Always check your candy; CW: mouth trauma, razors]
[Cassandra had no intention of being outside for the trick or treating, not that she might admit it. As far as anyone was aware, she was taking a nice evening stroll... which just so happened to include scouting the area for potential things of interest.
But on the way back she's flagged down by one of the locals in front of their house. No costume? No problem! She's handed a candy apple and told to enjoy the rest of her evening, all in that same, tight-lipped smile. She thought nothing of it and walked on, apple in hand. Maybe a... little delighted to be given something non-gelatinous. And she was hungry...
Doesn't make up for the kidnapping, but at least she can bite into this candy apple... and nearly doubles over on the sidewalk from the immediate burst of pain in her mouth. The apple drops to the pavement, forgotten as Cass coughs into her hand. She couldn't taste anything but pain and bitterness, and when she looks down, a cold shock ripples through her.
By all accounts, she should be angry. Furious, even. But the most Cass could muster from the sight of a razor blade resting in her bloodied palm was numb bewilderment. Even as more blood dribbled from a corner of her lip.]
B2
You... probably don't want to eat that.
no subject
And I'm gonna guess that you wouldn't wait to, either.
[So much for foisting this onto someone else.]
no subject
no subject
[so many royal functions, all a little more interesting than this.]
I want to know where they get all of this.
no subject
[not that he would, but he knows he could.]
A, im here to play cassandra's daughter again ig
You know, if you're picking something in this room to use as a weapon, holding onto a piece of broken glass probably isn't the best option? Good stance, though!
[ Bet you weren't expecting open earnestness about this particular topic today, Cass! There is not a hint of irony or judgement in her voice. ]
you're staying tru to your brand
She doesn't know this kid.
Yet, here she is, getting advice??]
...Thanks? [She's not dropping the glass though.] Wait, no. That doesn't answer anything. Who are you?
no subject
Oh! Right, sorry - hi! I'm Dora! I... have no idea where I am, actually, and you don't look like you do either!
no subject
A kid. A kid was kidnapped? That's just low.]
You... don't? [She replied with a shake of her head.] I don't even remember how I got here.
Or why there's so many pictures of us. I've never seen you before in my life.
C
Seeing that something may have been wrong with the treats after all, though...well, that's not too surprising. It's still a little hard for Susan to reach out to people face-to-face, but almost a little easier like this; she does know what to do with the sight of blood.]
Are you alright? What happened?
no subject
[Poor choice, opening her mouth to reply. Because look, there's more blood! In Cass's haste, she wipes her chin and ultimately just smears it across her chin.
Her palm with the razor in it is out for Susan to see.]
There's a razor in my apple.
[Oh, look. There's the anger.]
no subject
[Even Susan, dour and pessimistic as she is, knows better than to think this is something people actually do on the regular. Even with the bizarre concentration of serial killers in London over the past year.]
I'm a nurse. Do you want me to take a look?
A
Michael's done a little more looking around since his personal experimentation with this apparently-human body he's got, and he's seen all the family photos by now. They're creepy! They're very creepy! Part of him notes that it's a good touch of psychological torture, really very well done, but most of him is busy writhing in horror at the wedding photos. Ugh. He appreciates human things, really looking forward to attending Janet's next wedding, but all of this just feels sort of violating.]
Um, hi. My name's Michael. [He raises his hands in surrender. Looks like he's already bleeding just a little from one finger.] I take it you also don't live here.
no subject
But there's one thing they can immediately agree on: these photos littering almost every inch of this home were uncomfortable in the least and mentally-scarring at the worst. Cass could hardly begin to think about where they came from, or how her face even shows up in them. Magic? Has to be magic.
Almost all the terrible things in her life were caused by magic.]
Cassandra. And no, I don't. [Her eyes dart to the shard in her hand. Nope, that wasn't her doing.] I also don't know how any of these... weird paintings happened. So, we're going to have a problem unless you don't either.
no subject
[Well, the fact that she doesn't seem to know what photos are kinda torpedoes a few of his own theories. Given total access to his camera roll, someone could conceivably Photoshop him into whatever they liked. But if she doesn't have any photos of herself out there...hm.]
I know a couple ways one could make those, but - no, I don't know where these ones came from. I was really hoping they didn't mean anything.
[.........wait, if she's here and he's here...]
Are there.....kids, here?
no subject
Kids? Why- [Oh. Oh she had never considered that, and it nearly sends her into hysterics all on its own. Luckily for Michael, she restrains herself to just a shake of her head.]
No, no. I-I haven't seen any children.
[Not yet, anyway. Confusion abounds.]
What is... What even is this place?
no subject
[Michael seems fairly unsettled by the prospect of having to deal with children, himself. But they haven't come across any yet, so...it's fine. It's probably fine.]
A...house, I guess. I don't know, I haven't made it outside yet. Appliances look pretty old, though, and, um. [.....heck it] Not sure if this is oversharing, but I do seem to have turned into a human being. Which I previously was not.
no subject
Uh... Yeah. I'm not sure what that means, but I've always been a human. [Hm.] So... magic must be involved.
[Wonderful. She slides to the front of the house, where simple blinds have been drawn to block out the neighborhood. A moment of... figuring that out and she peers through a kink in them.]
This is wrong. Everything out there looks the same.
no subject
[An Architect in his neighborhood? The Head Architect, at that? It ought to have taken the Judge herself to shut him down.
He follows her to the window, going to peek through the blinds next to her]
Looks like pretty standard boring American suburb. I don't know why they started doing them like that. Probably money...
B1
The bitter scowl on his face he tries to hide when he's walked in on proves that wrong, and when he sees her tossing aside the party gear he... well, doesn't relax, but gives up on the cheery facade and returns to a more natural unpleasant expression]
Hardly.
no subject
Great. I don't need to shake anymore hands, or anymore gelatin.
[She exhales, brushing hair out of her face.]
I've know my share of parties but it is tense out there.