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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.
Anduin Wrynn | Warcraft | ota CW: Needles, Razors in later prompt.
Help me. Please, help me...
[ Anduin wakes up slowly despite the urgency of the voice he'd just heard, taking his time to come around to the fact he's not where he ought to be. It had only been moments ago he'd been in Stormwind, discussing Old Gods with his advisors before hearing a voice, but that didn't explain why he was suddenly in a comfortable bed staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. Anduin reigns in the momentary panic at the thought that this could be an Old God's interference, opting to simply take a breath and try to think this through rationally as he makes a move, sitting on the edge of his bed. Common sense and strategy would dictate at least looking around before causing a scene, to gather what intel he could so making the right decision would come more naturally.
That and the whole place is quiet, it almost feels serene with the way the sunlight filters through the window and that alone is worlds apart from his own home. Even the pyjamas he's wearing are comfortable but also fit as if made specifically for him. Opening the wardrobe shows more outfits, all ones Anduin are unfamiliar with in terms of style yet a glance tells the young King that each one would have no problems in fitting.
Soon enough he's wandering into the kitchen, having managed to slip in to a pair of trousers and a shirt. Anduin feels underdressed but there's nothing more than these, no robes or suits of armour to be donning and a cursory glance around the kitchen lets him know that the strangeness doesn't stop. He can even hear a strange noise coming from the other room, letting him know that there are only so many days until Halloween!]
Hello? Is anyone here?
[ It's better to just speak out loud, to find out just whose abode he's found himself in. If someone else is around then they may just have the answers, that and the idea he's completely alone in whatever bizarre thing is happening is a little unnerving. That is, until, he sees the pictures and the handwritten notes on the fridge. He's in those pictures, there's no mistaking his own face and long blond hair! But even more startling is the fact the writing is his own, instantly recognisable! the sense of strangeness only serves to dig it's claws in all the more and now the sense of panic is starting to make itself known.]
Anyone? What is this place?
(Party Cheese Salad)
[ Anduin still isn't sure what's going on. He had been hoping to look for some kind of a library, a place full of information but instead he's been caught up in a whirlwind of visiting neighbours. Luckily for Anduin he's a King, he's been brought up learning how to constantly meet new people and each time a gift of food shows up he gives his best smile and most gracious thanks no matter how many times he has to say it. That seems to be all he gets though, any comments about another world or such seem to be brushed off as a joke and the oddity of it all doesn't go unmissed.
The latest gelatin tests Anduin's noble poker face, his smile just a little wary as he glances at the creation. Is it edible? He doesn't know, it could be an assassination attempt from the looks of things. Anduin still manages to say thank you before bringing the food in to place on the table along side all the others.]
Would it be rude to declare that I shall not be eating that?
(Checking candy, cw: needles, razors)
[ Anduin gets sent out in a makeshift outfit. He isn't even sure what it's meant to be but some of the residents had seemed encouraging and it would serve a purpose; it covers Anduin's face and lets him look around without others taking notice of him doing as much. No-one so much as bats an eyelid at the tall young man walking around, he only gets generic compliments and piles of candy before he's moved on to the next one. This holiday is familiar at least, something similar is held back home and Anduin pauses by his supposed house to take a bite out of some chocolate, instantly yelping as a needle suddenly digs through the side of his cheek.
He makes a move to heal himself before remembering his powers are gone, there's no connection to the light here and Anduin can't help but grimace, removing his mask to and bracing himself to pull the needle out in one swift move.]
Does anyone have a bandage?
[ Anduin briefly glances towards his bucket of candy, only just managing to spy a razor blade buried amongst the items along with some more needles. How? When?? Whatever it is, someone is out to do some real damage and the thought someone would do something during a time when there are so many small children around....]
What is going on here? [ The nearest person with a candy bucket gets a warning.] Be careful, there are dangerous things in there!
(wildcard)
[ ooc: down with anything, feel free to PM or ping here. Am absolutely down with more family members and the likes too!
As Anduin is nineteen years old he's considered the child of the family even if he's a high king and adult sized.]
( checking candy. )
[ daylight stops in his tracks, turning to face the person who had spoken to him. much as he's finding himself getting swept up by the hunt for sugary treats, the alarm in their voice, and the warning itself, grabs his attention.
wanting a better look at the guy, day sets down his candy bucket and fumbles with the eyepatch and beard of his cobbled-together 'pirate' costume. it allows his confused yet concerned expression to be more clearly seen- he's... puzzled, clearly, but he's willing to hear him out. ]
What's dangerous?
no subject
Daylight gets a sympathetic look as Anduin motions towards the candy bucket.]
Apologies, I do not wish to cause undue panic, however it seems there are sharp objects in the "candy". This was in mine.
[ Anduin holds up the needle, nose wrinkling at the idea that it could have been so much worse if he hadn't felt like chewing his food before swallowing it.]
no subject
deciding better safe than sorry, daylight grabs a piece of candy from his bucket and begins to unwrap it. seeing no obvious or suspicious signs on it, he then (carefully) breaks it apart to see if anything is...
yep. there's a razor blade in this one. ]
Thanks. I- Are you okay? [ day looks up again, eyes wide with concern. ] I have some bandages on me in my pocket. You can have some.
no subject
[ Normally Anduin wouldn't be so shocked at an assassination attempt, being royalty it kind of comes with the job, but the fact it's random and with such a wide pool of potential victims? It makes his skin crawl.
How bad it would have been had this person bitten into such a sharp looking blade??]
I will be fine, I am just thankful I didn't swallow quickly or it could have been much worse. [ Anduin debates a bandage; originally he'd asked for one in haste but he's not sure how he'll manage to talk with one wrapped around his mouth. Still it's best to have one to hand anyway!]
I would appreciate that, thank you. What is your name?
no subject
Oh? Um- Daylight. [ he's gotten looks from people - usually the natives of the town, he's noticed - for saying his full name but it won't stop him from saying it aloud. ] Hope the bandage helps you out, buddy. That is seriously messed up.
[ an understatement but he doesn't like the idea of cursing out in the open, where kids could hear him.
kids- he winces, looking down at the too-sharp razborblade resting in the pile of crumbly chocolate and graham cracker. daylight shakes it back into his candy bag, face gri. ]
We need to tell someone else about this. [ because they can't be the only ones who got these. there's no way. ] Were you hanging out with anyone else?
Party Cheese Salad
[A badged party guest looks aghast at the very idea, shaking his head in disapproval.]
If you're not going to eat it... Pretend you are, take it with you, and feed it to a dog! At least someone will appreciate it that way.
[The chef behind this culinary wiggling delight may not agree with that particular stance, and some of the ingredients might not agree with dogs, but he's said his piece.]
no subject
I have not seen any dogs around. You are right, it would be rude to refuse such a dish. It may not look ideal but someone put the thought and time to make it. Perhaps you would like to share it with me?
no subject
I... Would love to. That sounds wonderful.
Party Cheese Salad
Whatever is going on here, whatever trick of the mind this is Anduin Wrynn is clearly bait. He's clearly been placed here to appeal to him, perhaps to distract him.
Wrathion has, unfortunately, never been good at heeding his own advice. He watches Anduin accept the gift with a fixed smile, watches him interacting with his... family.
Then, he makes a decision.
Without much deeper thought for how this may look, Wrathion sneaks around the outside of Anduin's property and tries to catch his eye through the kitchen window. He's reasonably smartly dressed, in a dark red a black suit that is perhaps slightly on the dramatic side but red and black are both in fashion.
There's also the matter of his eyes. Their lack of bright red glow is clearly a concern, but it's a concern for when he escapes this place. Surely once he does, his power will return once more? For now, they're simply hazel with flecks of gold.
Wrathion has thought about humanity and mortality before, but he'd rather have had some say in it.
Realising Anduin is too engrossed by his revolting food gift to notice him, he finally crouches down to pick up a small stone and throws it at the window. It bounces off with a sharp tap, and Wrathion lofts an eyebrow -- tilts his head toward the front of the house. Well? Come out, they clearly need to talk. ]
no subject
Anduin is so wrapped up in debating with himself as to if he should or shouldn't take a bite just to save face when he suddenly hears something hit the window. Blue eyes widen when he spots Wrathion outside and he subsequently excuses himself. Lucky for Anduin his polite and respectful demeanour means few question what he's doing (for now) and he goes outside and takes a breath of fresh air.
Social functions always were tiring.]
What are you doing here?
[ Anduin casts a critical gaze over Wrathion. The dragon still isn't top of his Winterveil present list, but he instantly spots the change in eyes, the lack of a certain tell tale sign of Wrathion's heritage. It's enough to have the priest a little uneasy, obviously a little suspicious as to if this is or isn't the real Black Dragon Prince. Maybe this is a trick of the Old Gods after all?]
When did you get here?
no subject
Such a warm, pleasant reunion.
[ Dry, and dripping with sarcasm. Wrathion's eyes flit around every so often as they talk, watching the street carefully to see who might be observing them. ]
My beloved family recently moved here. I have been receiving housewarming gifts, as I see you have. Are you enjoying yourself?
[ Wrathion certainly isn't, but neither is he sure of Anduin's place in this whole nightmare. Is he a part of the scenery, intended to convince him he belongs, or is he trapped as he is? ]
no subject
[ Anduin keeps his voice low, even though he's unable to stop the remark leaving his lips when he hears what Wrathion has to say. The other may be suspicious but that sarcasm is oh so familiar (and annoying).
He listens to the words, understanding that right now anyone could be listening. They don't know what this place is up to or who is "on their side" so to speak and when Anduin talks he makes sure to keep it just as vague.]
My family has also just arrived and the neighbours have been ever so gracious to bring us enough food to last us all days. We shall not need to cook any time soon.
[ He pauses, looking into Wrathion's eyes again. It's disconcerting to see how different they are and it sets Anduin on edge a little, reminding him that things may not be what they seem here.]
I am enjoying myself as much as a worgen in an undercity.
no subject
Yes, he understands. ]
Moving is a stressful experience. You would be forgiven for finding the upheaval... disconcerting. Ah, but did you bring your dog?
[ ... Genn. He's asking about Genn, and Wrathion is definitely enjoying himself a little in the process. It's the small things. ]
no subject
The dog comment gets a reproachful look, even if it is amusing.]
No, unfortunately the dog did not come with us. He has his own mind but I do hope he finds his way to us.
[ So they both haven't been here long and they both seem to have been trapped in so called "families". Anduin doesn't know the point yet, can't seem to wrap his mind around how it happened let alone why. At least there's someone familiar here, that much is something to let the priest know he isn't losing his mind.]
In a place like this you will see things much clearer, perhaps. Then again that could be down to how people see things.
[ Anduin can't help it, he has to address to ginormous elekk in the room!]
no subject
Wrathion squints.
It's a squint that says he's thinking about this, analysing Anduin's words and picking them apart for potential meanings. The one that comes to mind most readily is N'Zoth. Does Anduin want to clarify if he's changed factions, so to speak? Been manipulated into serving the corrupter? ]
Certainly I've found the population here have a unique... perspective. I must confess, the adjustment is difficult. I do not find my mind illuminated at all, I prefer to keep to my own truths. Perhaps that makes me stubborn.