redshift: tdm #5

[modblob]

Redshift: Welcome to the v͖͕̺̲̘̱̜͎o̴̦̣̠̦̘̹͞i̯̖d̛̪̬͈̱̦̝͍̕.

▶ Click here to read what characters will experience when arriving in Anchor.

▶ All TDM threads can be considered game canon, and current players are welcome to either top-level on the TDM so prospective players can tag them, or use the prompts for logs or network posts on the communities. All threads on the TDM can be used for Activity Check.

a. don't be a sap.

Good morning, October 25th! Whether you're a confused new arrival or a current resident, you probably had some plans for today, right? Grab breakfast, visit a friend, pick some fruit, explore a new part of the massive city.

Well. Too bad. Because, as every single bot in the city will be telling you the moment you show your face, it's GOOP FESTIVAL DAY! What? You've never heard of it? Preposterous, everyone knows about the Goop Festival, it's one of the most anticipated holidays in Anchor! Haven't you been preparing for this for a week now?

The Goop Festival is a harvest celebration, in particular, a celebration of the sap-producing trees that grow wild in the Park, thick around the edges of the south side of the lake. The bots have been hard at work setting up the festival grounds in the shade of the trees in the balmy fall temperatures. There are spiles tapped into trees with buckets placed underneath that are already half-full of a thick, viscous, amber-colored sap. The bots have also set up troughs of shaved ice with long sticks nearby, with which they will demonstrate for excited residents (you are excited, right?) how to cool the sap in the ice and wrap it around the stick to make it a sort of taffy candy. That's not the only sweet surprise waiting, either.

A long table set up in the grass is loaded down with all sorts of delicious sap-related goodies, ranging from cupcakes with thick globs of sap-flavored frosting to sap-flavored jerky to sap sugar candies, and just about anything else you can imagine. There are a wide variety of offerings that would taste good coated, flavored, or glazed with the sap, which tastes sort of like a caramelized toffee. Another table is laid out that has row upon row of cups, each half-full of the sap, heated lightly to a thinner consistency and served similarly to hot chocolate - at least, if hot chocolate gave you a floaty, happy, hazy sort of feeling. Everything made with this sap does, actually, with the cups of pure sap having a stronger effect and items with less sap content having barely any effect at all.

Does this not sound like your cup of weird tree sap? Too bad. This is the GOOP FESTIVAL, and everything is shut down for this lovely paid vacation day. Spa? Locked down. Kitchens? Locked. Bar? Nope, totally shut down and the server bots are all down at the park. VR Gaming? Too bad, the computers are all shut down. Even roaming the halls and trying to stay out of the way won't help much...be prepared to be dragged down to the park to participate in this mandatory festival! Isn't it exciting?

b. familiar ground.

Every year in Anchor near the end of October, there's a very strange interaction between the protective dome over the city and seasonal radiation surges that happen in the wastelands. Some complicated combination of refraction and reflection means that for the last few days of the month, residents will experience some of the more benign effects of the red shift inside the city.

Did we say benign? Because while there may not be any dangerous radiation to melt your skin off, there are some mind-bending dangers. Characters experiencing the shift will find the world becomes distorted, warped, impossible to navigate; they are enveloped in auditory and visual hallucinations, and can become so disoriented that they can't even recognize people they've known for years. And characters will find that the citywide shift brings in slivers of other universes, little slices of places characters have never seen before...or places so familiar they make the heart beat hard with joy or fear.

And just like in the wastelands, the things that show up in these shifts are all too real. Characters may find themselves walking through a door into a scene straight from home, or from someone else's home. Whether it's a favorite place to share with a new friend, or the nightmare landscape you almost died in, complete with the monster that almost killed you, be careful. Everything you experience here is real, and if you die in the shift, you die for real.

Of course, the city has its own safety measures in place - residents experiencing the hallucinations and appearances of items and places from other worlds may find themselves locked down in the room they're in, trapped with the otherworldly effects of the shift.

c. the virus.

A few weeks ago, people in Anchor started getting a case of the sniffles. While some of the earliest cases might be clearing up, there are still a few people suffering, or people freshly infected by those who were sick earlier, including some of the new arrivals who may not even be feeling it yet.

Which may make the cause of some unexpected 'glitches' around the city a little unclear. Residents who are feeling the effects of the illness, or who are infected but not showing symptoms yet (or anymore) will find that their access to certain parts of the city are restricted. Suddenly, automatic doors aren't opening for them, as if they were ghosts, particularly when they try to access anything that may facilitate transmission of the virus. Suddenly, only some of the residents of the city will find they can't get into half of the MedBay, or the spa, the kitchens, the VR or games rooms, the bar...anywhere people gather or eat or sit close together.

Residents may put together that it's related to the illness some of them have been experiencing over the past few weeks, but it might take a while, since these safety and security measures are affecting people who are showing no symptoms yet. Be prepared for a few days of paranoia while seemingly perfectly healthy people are locked out of common areas. What does the computer know that residents don't? Are these people security risks? Is it a system glitch? What could be going on?

c. the network.

Need to get hold of someone, call for help, ask the city at large a question? Need to warn a friend not to leave their apartment unless they want to be forcibly press-ganged into the Goop Festival? Maybe you need to hold your sat phone up to whatever crazy thing you're seeing and send out a recording to double-check if your eyes are deceiving you and what you're looking at is real?

Whatever the reason, the network is going strong, so feel free to include a post to it in your top-levels.

Mod Note: The "familiar ground" prompt will be active between October 29th and October 31st; "the virus" prompt will be active until the next introductory mingle, which will be kicking off the second part of the illness plot.

Navigation.

Comments

QUESTIONS

[modblob]

Any questions for the mods can be asked here!

[numerouno]

Sorry for asking this so late! Are the bots around Anchor capable of consuming the sap themselves? If so, are they affected by it? Alternatively, if the sap were poured on them, would anything special happen or no? Asking for a friend. 😇

allison hargreeves // the umbrella academy // direct from canon

[hersay]

park.

[ allison hasn’t been in anchor long — it’s been maybe twelve hours since she had to sit through a video of idris elba-who-is-not-irdis-elba (allison met him once at a cocktail party, and he looks much different up close), was forced to undergo a minimally satisfying communal shower, retrieve her clothes and some bizarre, clunky phone. since then, allison has successfully located a replacement bandage which is now wrapped around her throat, but she’d like a little more than that. maybe a scarf, to hide the suggestion of an unappealing wound. but more than that, allison wants to go home. she needs to save her sister, and probably the world, but it’s vanya who’s on her mind right now — vanya, who could be hurt, or dead, or worse. allison doesn’t want to lose another loved one.

so she’s searching. searching for home, a scarf, a friend — anything.

allison’s search has brought her to the park. in the distance, she spots a young girl sitting on a bench, swinging her legs back and forth. when allison moves closer, she can just make out that the little girl is humming.

allison would know that voice anywhere. it’s claire. it’s her daughter.

with that realization, allison practically sprints towards the bench, stopping a few feet away from her child. allison is crying and grinning; her body shakes a little. she’s full of fear and joy and love — love for her daughter, and joy that she can see her again. but fear for her, too — anchor isn’t safe for claire. they need to go home.

allison sits on the bench, and in her mind, they embrace.

any onlooker, however, will just see allison, hugging herself, petting the air, and crying at nothing — nothing at all. ]

network. un: a.h.

Help I’ve been dragged to some robot event I know nothing about they’re trying to force feed me candy and there’s a mysterious sticky goop all in my hair and clothes how do I get out of here

@Sparrow

[arcadedragon]

There's candy? Where are you?

text; @ GOSUCKADICK; hi i am so sorry

[substances]

u just gotta go w/ it man
do wat the bots tell u
its the only way

park (aka who's ready for some pain!)

[benhargreeves]

[ Ben is no stranger to the fact that the Anchor is full of strange influences that can make people see things that aren't there. It's all hallucinogenic spores and weirdly sadistic psychic nanites and it all shows no signs of letting up.

So he doesn't really trust it, when he's cutting through the park and spots a familiar head of hair. Probably a hologram or he's been drugged without realizing it. Still, he walks closer, staring at the back of Allison's head, waiting for it to vanish. Only it doesn't. He comes all the way around the bench, sees that she is crying and holding thin air. Her neck is bandaged, the way it was when he'd last seen her. Could it really be...?

Maybe he's dreaming and this is a particularly cruel nightmare. He's not sure.

Croakily, Ben says: ]

Allison?

text | un: lalli

[lallipop]

run

Scaramouche | Samurai Jack | currently in-game

[numerouno]

A. Don't Be A Sap

"Goop Festival", [he echoes flatly.] Really?

[One of the bots that corralled them all into the park tries to take his forearm and urge him forward to get a closer look at the... 'festival'. Scaramouche easily takes it back.] Hey, hands off, babe. [He makes a point of brushing off the imaginary flakes of rust as he watches the bot move toward their next victim.] Keep walkin'...

[Once they're out of earshot, he says to himself in a low voice:] Time to cut out. [What he needs is a distraction. An accomplice would be even better. Bringing his forefinger to his chin, he scans the area for one.]

Wildcard

[ooc: Want to run into Scaramouche somewhere else or have a plot idea? Shoot me a message at onthelam or on Discord, or PM this journal.]

[kaballin]

[It's almost like he needs a henchman.]

The name made me think this was going to be something completely different. Disappointing.

[Kabal has a few jars of the sap to try later since he's kind of noticing that the people here are acting a bit drunk. Which is promising.]

🐦 + 🤖 = 🎉

[birdical]

[As Scaramouche scans the park, someone else across the area locks eyes with him through the trees and festivities, her gaze sharp, focused. Maybe she wasn't looking for an accomplice like he was, but she certainly is looking for company, and it seems like she found it. Offering him a smile from a distance, she makes her way over, her purple hair and tall stature doing little to hide her approach.

As it turns out, she's not even the tallest one there -- she tips her head upwards as she gets closer, keeping her eyes on Scaramouche's face, utterly delighted to find someone larger than she is.]

I was thinking I was the tallest one in this place, but I am clearly in the wrong.

Carlisle Longinmouth | Original | In-Game

[abheirrant]

Goop Festival

Unfortunately, a festival focused around sugary delights made from tree sap has little to offer an undead man with little left in terms of his sense of taste, rendering him unable to enjoy said delights. He's mostly at the festival because everywhere else he was hoping to visit today is seemingly closed, and all the constructs in the hallways kept urging him toward the park. While no longer outright terrified of them, Carlisle wasn't interested in upsetting the constructs and giving them a reason to terrify him, so to the lower levels of Anchor he went.

He has to admit that now that he's here, the festival does merit a visit. Though he can't eat the candies or cupcakes or any of the other sap-coated confections (not that the constructs don't keep trying to get him to do so), he can certainly smell the sickeningly sweet aroma given off by the trees, rising from the steaming cups, and generally flooding the air all around him. More importantly, he can see how the sap affects other people, and his observations give him ideas.

Suffering from normal nightmares, agonizing guilt over even minor transgressions, and a worsening condition that left his limbs stiffer and colder with every passing day, Carlisle always had trouble sleeping when he was alive. Most often, he turned to liquor to quiet his thoughts; however, on some nights when the frailty of his body was more than he could bear, he'd enchant himself some specialized tea. Between the drink itself and the steam that rose from it, he could ease the aches of his muscles and the woes of his mind long enough to find relief. Now, his problem is that he can't manage to fall asleep at all, and with no paw plants to brew and the enchantment not strong enough to work on an undead on its own, he hasn't managed to sleep since he awakened as an undead.

And while it has occurred to him that the undead don't need to sleep, he prefers to think of himself as a person, and people need to sleep, so he should too. It not only gives him a break from his relentless anxiety, but it makes him feel just a little more human - a little more alive. He needs that routine, that structure - he needs this to feel more like himself.

And so, he wonders if the tea might be strong enough if he has a replacement for the paw plant, something that seems to have a similar effect overall. Now that well worth his time at this festival. Ducking behind one of the spiled trees, he waits for a moment when the constructs aren't looking, aiming to grab one of those half-full barrels for himself. He's going to need plenty of sap if he wants to experiment.

Wildcard

[Feel free to hit him up around Anchor, or shoot me a PM here, at grimmhooke, or on Discord to plot something else!]

[theweakhavepurpose]

Pratt loves coffee and he loves sweets. Back home his coffee order was basically sugar syrup with caramel sauce that might have once been in the same room with coffee to flavor it. So he should be all over this. But he's really leery of eating anything that he doesn't know what it is, and the more the robots try to force it on him the more resistant he becomes.

He has a steaming thermos of coffee that he managed to get away from one of the robots before the addition of any of the goop. Fortunately since none of the other robots know his drink isn't tainted they're leaving him alone since he seems to be participating.

If Carlisle is trying to be stealthy, it's apparently not working as Pratt strolls right up to him, taking a sip of his coffee, "You're not going to eat that are you?"

Dream time

[braidmage]

[ Reynir doesn't stumble on the place by accident, or find it on his own. As soon as he falls asleep that night - without realizing it is the first night in a long time that Carlisle is also sleeping deeply - his fylgja appears. The creature is as cryptic as always, but Reynir has learned that it is best to just follow where it leads. This time, it doesn't lead him to an ancient temple, or to Onni or Lalli, but to a place he has never been before.

There is a forest, initially, and then a tall wall made of well-laid bricks, sturdy and regular, well-maintained. Reynir follows after the fluffy sheepdog until it brings him up to a door leading into the garden. It then trots off to do whatever it does when it's not delivering cryptic messages or leading him on baffling expeditions. Reynir walks in the garden a few minutes, admiring the neat little gravel paths, the variety of flowers - in such rich colors, types he has never seen before. He is clearly enraptured by the plants and doesn't notice until he is a few feet away that there is another person, here. A man, kneeling in the dirt and tending to the plants. ]

Oh! Hello. I didn't realize anyone was here. I don't mean to intrude, I was just-

[ Then his words stop. At first, he hadn't recognized him. He looks... different in the dream. Healthier, maybe even younger. And after all, Reynir isn't used to seeing very much of his face, at all. But the eyes are the same, and the brows and forehead and after those first few sentences he knew. ]

Carlisle? Is that you...

[ Reynir remembers in a rush their conversation about dreaming. So Carlisle does have an area, after all, and this is it... but this is no time for 'I told you so'. Gasping in sudden realization, Reynir claps his hands over his eyes, squeezing them shut at the same time, blurting out: ]

Oh no, I- you- you haven't got your mask on, you probably didn't expect anyone to come here, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to look!

Varok Saurfang | World of Warcraft

[orcnorris]

[a]

Saurfang is a little too old and dour to be excited about something called the Goop Festival, but once he’s been herded over to the Park, he does find himself slightly relieved to find that it’s just about tree sap. Having already discovered that the rest of the facility is more or less closed, he stalks about the festival grounds, looking rather disgruntled but not causing a fuss. He’s not going to participate – despite everything he's been through, he still has a little dignity to lose – but it won't do him any harm to watch the other residents. Some of them even seem to be having fun, although the only real activity is eating things.

If someone's off to the side like he is, he'll even try to engage in a little conversation. Not much else to do.

“You celebrated this before?”

[b]

He had forced himself to watch the World Tree burn. He deserved to; it would be another shame that would follow him to the long-awaited grave. The sight of it now, therefore, is all too familiar, although the fact that it's sitting in the middle of a hallway in Anchor is a little odd. But he had not been so close to it before - he'd watched from across the water, where the heat had been the only bearable thing about it. Now, trapped in the corridor, he wouldn't be able to get far enough away.

He's been told that he can't always trust his senses in this place, but he doesn't know what else to do right now. He backs himself against the double doors that have somehow locked from the inside, shields his face, and tries to come up with a plan. Smashing the doors seems like the only option; there's no way to put the Tree out and nothing else that might shield him from the approaching fire.

Saurfang turns and takes a few steps back, aiming to rush the doors, when they actually open from the other side and someone else steps inside the burning hallway -

“No!” he lunges for them, to stop the door from closing or to knock them out of the corridor, but neither plan succeeds. They're both trapped, now.

SAURFANG OH MAN OH MAN OH MAN also B

[abheirrant]

Things on Carlisle's to-do list for the day: find some mugs, maybe a basin, and get to experimenting with the sap he stole collected from the obnoxious 'Goop Festival' the constructs had forced them all to attend. Now that the robots are no longer running through every hallway and escorting people to the park whether they like it or not, he's finally able to escape his quarters to go looking for the rest of the supplies he needs for making tea from the tree sap. Tea sap, as he is calling it. He's fond of that pun now, but he might not be so warm on it if this all turns out to be a waste of his time.

Unfortunately, as he's meandering through one of the corridors away from the mess hall, his arms laden with no less than eight coffee mugs, he finds himself face to face with a massive green fellow, one who is all muscle and teeth and terror as he barrels toward the unsuspecting clergyman. If he had enough to think, Carlisle would what any normal person would in that situation (cower in unadulterated panic), but as it is, he doesn't even have enough time to react.

Saurfang slams into him in his haste to reach the doors, but they click closed behind him a fraction of a second beforehand, the lock sliding into place to keep them both inside. The impact knocks Carlisle back against them -- he drops every last one of the mugs he was carrying, all of them clattering to the ground, most of them breaking upon impact. So much for that venture.

"What are—"

He cuts himself off immediately, suddenly aware of the massive fire engulfing the hallway. Had that been there before? Or had his being jarred so suddenly knocked some sense into him? And how much sense did one need to realize there was a massive, burning tree in the middle of the hall?

inquisitor trevelyan ; dragon age: inquisition ; hadriel crau

[closerift]

feeling pretty sappy

[ Through the Door at Hadriel's end and - surprise - she isn't back in her own world at all. The whole thing has been both more and less of a surprise than she'd figured, but Cecily Trevelyan is exasperated nonetheless. ]

I've experienced some truly silly festivals and celebrations, but this one is-...well. Wouldn't want to say something that might get me into a sticky situation, would I?

[ She'll wink at anyone within earshot, perfectly pleased with her terrible pun. The Goop Festival, as it's apparently called, has a terrible name, but she's never been one to turn up her nose at a party of any kind. As such, the Inquisitor makes herself at home at the table, sampling some of the sap-based treats, as well as the not-hot-chocolate. ]

It's got a similar effect to a glass or two of wine, apparently. Brilliant. [ Cecily hums contentedly as she drains her glass, letting the warmth of the...whatever it is wash over her. Really, this festival isn't so bad at all. ]


it's familiar...but not too familiar...but not too not familiar

[ As with any new world, there will be dangers. Today, it's something...less obvious. As she stands stock-still, Cecily watches as she road ahead of her bends and undulates, causing her to moan aloud and press her hands against her face as if warding off a migraine. ]

What in the Maker's-...? [ Definitively odd. She exhales shakily and tries to steady herself, peeking out at the world and...seeing it as it should be. Without the street twisting unnaturally.

For now.

Cecily gives it one last, suspicious glance before hurrying on her way. She's even starting to feel as if it could've possibly been a harmless trick of her mind when she steps through a door and into...Skyhold. The courtyard, specifically, with its garden and arbor, with its usual population milling about and the chill of the Frostbacks hanging in the air.

Something lodges itself tight in her throat. This...is not simple trick, but neither is it real. This is what she reminds herself as she takes a nearby leaf of elfroot into her hands and feels its substance. Its textured, physical substance.

Not real. Certainly not her first experience with phantoms and visions. And yet... ]


u up???

[ Fortunately for this medieval lady, texting, and an electronic network, are not new. ]

That nearly-coma-inducing sap drink seemed an excellent idea at the time, but it's left me feeling a bit knackered today. Does anyone have a recommendation for how best to overcome this particularly-nasty hangover?

Thank you in advance for your wisdom as I overcome this great trial

feeling pretty sappy

[solidification]

[ This is on the list of weirder things that's ever happened to Jay, but the festival doesn't seem that bad. Sure, it's called GOOP FESTIVAL, but people seem happy and nothing is actively trying to kill him.

Which, all things considered, makes this place several magnitudes better than how his shift was going back home. So, without much more than a shrug at the fact that everything else is closed, he tries one of the shaved ice rolls they're giving out, wandering through the festival with waves and nods to the people he passes.

He sidesteps someone who passes too close, mid-mouthful of sap, and bumps into the back of someone else. ]

Ah— shit. [ It's hard to talk with a mouthful of chewy goop, so give him a second. ] Y'good?

Goop!

[killedwithlove]

"It's one of the nicer things here. There are tiny tiny machines that pretend to be Nightmare."

Cole does Cole. He just starts talking from over her shoulder, not bothering to alert her to his presence in any normal way.

"I'm not your Cole. I'm sorry about that. My Inquisitor was Nadezhda Cadash."

kate galloway / oc / canon direct ( sry hadrielites )

[dedikated]

— bring out your goop;

[ So.

It looks like she doesn't exactly get a choice in experiencing this festival, does she? Unless she stayed in all day which... No. No, being stuck in a little room all day sounds like—

Sounds just like what she left behind, honestly.

So, if nothing else, Kate doesn't have to be forced into participating in this. She glances at and bypasses stall after stall, every offering sweet and sickly, until she's eventually cornered by an observant bot running a stall with several drinks laid out upon it. ]

I told you no. [ But, but but! ] Don't want owt. Get lost.

[ How, exactly, does a robot get to be this insistent? Somebody send help. ]

— i've seen this place before;

[ At first, nothing seems unusual. Not for her. Not until a path leads somewhere it shouldn't have — didn't she just come from here — and Kate slows to a halt, blinking and shaking her head, trying to push away cobwebs which have suddenly formed.

But it's just a moment's glitch, a small thing. She's fine. She just has to double back again, and she'll be—

Wait. Did she go left, or right?

And what is that single, flickering fluorescent light? So familiar and

gone.

Gone and back again, blinking in the corner of her eye, an consistent annoyance. ]

... The hell...?

[ She squints, turning her head in that direction, but nothing. Not even the path she should be seeing. Just a blank wall, dark damp stone and the scent of age and disuse. ]

No— fuck— fuck!

[ Gone is the unfamiliar pathways of Anchor, gone is sunlight and skyline, gone is everything but a flickering light in the corner of her eye and the blank square of a cell, one steel door and a window looking out to an abandoned table with nothing more than two dusty old coffee cups.

Not here. Not again. Her stomach twists and her fists meet the side of the wall with a thud, ineffectual and hollow, but she wouldn't expect anything else in this cell. ]

— texts from last... torment?;

Somebody got a map of this place?

Want to get to the gym this time.

— wildcard;

[ you know how this goes. hit me with anything. ]

Deputy Pratt || Far Cry 5 || In Game - End of the Event

[theweakhavepurpose]

The area behind the ranch was trees and some smaller fields that Pratt had been cultivating into what would be vegetable plots in the future. The trees were tall and had spreading canopies in various colors, some dropping bright acorns in strange shapes. None of them were pine trees and it certainly wasn't a forest.

Until now.

Pratt hadn't even really noticed the change, he'd been digging in the field, a trench that would help to irrigate the few pepper plants that he had growing, staked against a few pieces of broken PVC pipe to keep them upright. Princess Thug had wandered away a few hours ago to go hunting, but he wasn't concerned - she'd be back in a few hours like normal. He didn't want to impede her natural instincts by keeping her inside or on a tether.

But this time when Pratt looked up to head back to the barn and store his tools away - the barn simply wasn't there. Well it might have been but it was impossible to tell as hundreds of trees had sprung up all around Pratt, tall pine trees so close together the light from above barely trickled down to the ground, the only open space remaining was the small field he'd been digging in.

Backing up he looked around, calling for the wolf, wondering where to run to, and what had happened. But over some loudspeakers that shouldn't even be there came a few tinkling lines of what sounded like a music box and all the color drained from Pratt's face.

"No... NO!"

The distorted echo of a song starts to play, sounding as if it's coming from underwater almost. Playing over itself in places and off tempo. Only youuuuuu.

Familiar Ground - Cull the Weak
There's a strange sound from within the room up ahead. Maybe it's music, maybe it's the dripping sound of water reverberating against concrete floor. But coming inside the room will reveal that nothing is as it should be. Tables and chairs are floating midair, even though it's inside there's trees and a gravel path and everything is tinted red. Things seem to be moving in slow motion and there's the perpetual sound of music that seems to come from every direction, the tune just slightly off between each speaker.

Pratt is up ahead, or he's behind you, or he's standing off to the side. He's there - in his green uniform and looking like he hasn't slept in a week. But is it Pratt?

The voice commanding someone to cull the weak or make your sacrifice certainly sounds like Pratt - but he doesn't seem to really be speaking. He doesn't seem to be doing anything but standing there.

There's another voice KILL KILL KILL strident and louder than Pratt's guttural monotone you are no hero. But the source of that one can't be found.

Welcome to the Trials. Make your sacrifice.

Network
Don't go into the room!

Don't run the trial. Don't do it don't do it

DON'T.

He's here.

@lazarus | text [private]

[benhargreeves]

[ Ever since what he'd seen happen to Kieran, Ben is on high fucking alert for the next bad thing to happen. His friend had gotten hurt and he hadn't been there to stop it and he can't let that happen again.

So he's already up and moving as soon as he sees Pratt's post on the network, heart thumping hard, terror knotted in his guts. He hopes he isn't too late. He can't be too late. He had told Pratt he would keep him safe. That he would protect him if Joseph ever showed up. ]

Who's here? Is it Joseph? Where are you? I'm on my way, just tell me where to go and I can help.

[ He doesn't know what trial Pratt is talking about but Ben isn't scared. Ben is pretty confident in his ability to defend himself against most threats. ]

Kieran Duffy | Read Dead Redemption 2 | Currently in-game| CW: GORE, TORTURE, BODY HORROR

[sleepyhollowed]

[THE VIRUS] – [OPEN]

Fatigue no longer dragged at Kieran’s every step, nor did the everlasting threat of a cough tickling at the back of his throat. Sneezes didn’t plague him anymore, and he finally managed to get his sniffles under control. Everything seemed to be looking up after a good couple of weeks full of that special kind of misery only a bout of illness could bring.

Then the doors that he’d grown used to opening immediately as he approached them remained firmly shut. Adding insult to injury were the moments when these doors would actively close on him with an indignant WOOSH.

Kieran stands in front of the door to the dining hall, hands on his hips and a scowl clear on his face.

“Aw, c’mon!!! This is the second time today!” he whines… at the door. First time for everything.

“I just wanna make myself a sandwich…”

--

[FAMILIAR GROUND] – [CLOSED TO BEN, PRATT, & CARLISLE]

It’s well towards the end of the month that Kieran finds himself shut out—again—by one of those doors. Somewhere along the way, someone has explained to him (whether it be a fellow outsider to Anchor, or a cog in the system itself) that it could have something to do with his prior illness. That didn’t exactly make him feel great. Still, Kieran took it upon himself to travel around. He needed the exercise, and a life full of manual labor made sure that he’d not only grown accustomed to it, but that he actively craved it. His time holed up with that weird cold had stolen nearly chance he had to put his body to work, and he needed to do something to get back into that groove. So, he sighs and walks away from this nearest door and into a somewhat unfamiliar section of the agricultural sector.

As Kieran mindlessly walks along a corridor, he finds himself rolling up his sleeves and loosening his neckerchief. Somewhere down the line, the air has grown a bit warmer. A bit more humid. The usually sterile scents sometimes peppered with pollen from the strange trees start mixing with something a little muggier. Like a swamp. He stops in his tracks, heart pounding in his chest as realization hits.

Somehow, the path Kieran had been following has warped into the outskirts of Shady Belle.

He remembers this spot in particular. He remembers what had happened here, just outside of the camp he dared not ever leave.

Adrenaline rushes through Kieran’s veins, and he turns to run—

—only to feel someone come up from behind him, grab him roughly by the middle and cover his mouth with a large grimy hand before he can shout for help. He struggles against the grip, kicking, rolling, and thrashing harder than he did back home now that he’s absolutely positive of what’s going to happen next. His assailant doesn’t break his grip, though, and only offers a chilling laugh with every unsuccessful attempt at freedom. He never found out who had been the one to kidnap him from the Van der Linde camp back then; Colm O’Driscoll had a bad habit of corralling tough, mean men by the dozens and turnover rates were high in his gang. It looks like he’s not about to find out here, either.

His boots leave definitive notches in the dirt as he continues to fight against the vice grip holding him tight. Eventually, Kieran manages to break the gang member’s hold just long enough to take a few glorious steps towards his escape. It’s a hope short-lived, however, as another O'Driscoll grabs him by his gangly arms and throws him roughly to the ground. His jaw slams against the ground and for a moment Kieran marvels that his teeth didn’t shatter from the force alone. The marvel quickly shifts to panic as a steel-toed boot slams into his side, undoubtedly cracking ribs and leaving him completely breathless. It’s an attack that’s as practical as it is cathartic—a traitor can’t shout for help if he can’t draw breath, after all.

Kieran just barely manages to suck in some air before another kick lands, this time aimed at the pit of his stomach and with enough strength to shock his entire body. He cries out, prompting another laugh from his assailants, and his vision starts to feather at the edges. He wonders if maybe he'll slip into unconsciousness before they kill him. That'd be nice. Unfortunately, 'nice' is in short supply when it comes to the O'Driscoll gang, and Kieran is fairly certain it's already been spent between the four of them present.

"Did you really think you could hide from us forever, boy?"

Make that five.

He'd heard that line before, repeated over and over again in his nightmares. It was the same thing those nanites, or whatever Peter called them, growled at Kieran when they'd taken Colm's image months ago. That could be what's happening here and now, but Kieran can't be sure, and he's a bit too preoccupied to try to find out. One of the men grabs his hair by the small ponytail he's started to grow out and drags him to his unsteady feet. Another one of his attackers holds his arms behind his back. Between the first O'Driscoll keeping his head still, the second holding him firm, and the other two standing menacingly off to the sides, Kieran knows he can't escape. His newly regained breathing grows rapid as Colm approaches, knife already in his hand.

"Relax. I ain't gonna kill you. Not yet, at least."

Kieran knows that all too well, and he tries to respond in kind, but his throat won't work right. All he can muster is a weak grunt as Colm holds the blade up to his face.

"Should I go after that tongue of yours? Be mighty poetic, wouldn't it. Cuttin' out someone's tongue after they went and ratted you out..."

"I didn't have any cho—!"

It's stupid to try and refute that kind of an accusation, regardless of the circumstances. Colm makes sure to remind Kieran about that particular rule with a hard strike across his face. Kieran cries out again, but it's cut short by a strong hand grasping at his jaw and lifting his head again. Disoriented, Kieran can't help but try to focus on the first thing that catches his eyes. As luck would have it, his gaze locks with Colm's, fiery with pure rage.

"...Hold 'im still. I just got an idea."

The next few long minutes play out almost exactly as Kieran remembers them from back home. He throws as much of his remaining strength into trying to fight against the combined muscle of four burly cowboys, but it's not nearly enough. It wouldn't have been enough even if he hadn't already been battered and bruised to hell. As they keep him still, Kieran can hear himself quietly begging and praying for mercy from anyone who would listen. The last thing he can clearly see is the glint of a blade arching down towards his eyes and the cold visage of a methodical man fueled by hatred and vitriol only found in legends.

It's then that Kieran finds his voice, and he screams.

--

[WILDCARD]

[DO YOU WANT TO DO SOMETHING HAPPY? BECAUSE I AM SO DOWN FOR SOMETHING HAPPY.]

[theweakhavepurpose]

Pratt has mercifully been spared the memories of home thus far, which is just as well because there certainly aren't a lot of pleasant ones. He's been plagued by a nagging sense that something is wrong though. Moreso than the usual 'on a space station in a different plane of existence' sort of wrong. The kind that's more pressing and crucial. It's setting him on edge and causing his normal nervous jitteriness to go into overdrive.

Every time he sees another person is a breath of relief that there's still some normalcy here. But he hasn't seen anyone in a while as he tends to the fence while a few deer glare at him and wonder where their dinner is.

It's the wolf at his side that alerts him something is awry, her ears perk suddenly and she turns with a growl to look towards the area beyond the pens. Where the small flock of ducks that Pratt can never catch like to congregate. He glances over, the ducks are back, but that's not the source of the animal's unease. It's that the ducks are in a pond.

Well, more like a swamp.

Had there always been a willow tree there? It's branches swaying in wind that shouldn't have existed inside a building. There definitely hadn't been water before, flies buzzing and stagnant water lending an odd smell to the air.

Starting up he grabs the nearby shovel and takes a few hesitant steps towards that area. Better see what's happening and if it's going to affect him or his livestock.

But then there's a scream and Pratt is all but running towards the source. He knows that sort of scream. Being with Jacob had made him witness to every different cadence of scream there was: begging, fear, agony, despair. This is terrified pain, and it's coming from right around that tree over there...

Pratt doesn't even hesitate, swinging the shovel and smacking the first person he comes across with it. Not with the blunt side either, the edge, aiming to down them permanently. He can see someone on the ground, smell the iron scent of blood in the air, but he hasn't made the connection that it's Kieran yet. Only that there's a group of people torturing someone else.

He doesn't care who they are, and as one goes down he turns to the next. No hesitation. No mercy.

This is why we train.

It's only after he's backing away from the second who nearly managed to shoot him in the stomach that he recognizes the outfit of the person on the ground. He can't see his face, only his legs as he's being held by several of them, but there's only one person who dresses like that here.

"Kieran?"

GOOOOOOOOP (Cole | Dragon Age)

[killedwithlove]

The Festival of Goop is weird and lovely to Cole.

He talks to the robots like they're giving him responses no one else can hear (they might be) and he accepts anything they give him, only to gift it to someone else, or another robot shortly after. He hasn't really eaten any of it; despite his foray into ice cream with Ben, he hasn't actually tried eating anything since then.

He mostly drifts around, enjoying people being... if not happy, at least confused and bemused rather than outright upset. His fingers are sticky from handling goods and he's sitting under a tree, talking to it about being tapped for syrup.

[benhargreeves]

[ Ben hadn't been thrilled with the total shutdown of other facilities and rooms that GOOP FESTIVAL had caused. He'd gone through his quiet morning routine and walked all the way to the library, only to tug fruitlessly at the doors for a few minutes before a robot appeared to yell at him about some sap-related holiday.

But he gave in and let himself be shepherded, and he had to admit, once he got there, that Goop Festival does have its charms. It's nice having a lot of the people he's come to know in the Anchor all close together; besides, those hot sap drinks are pretty great. He drinks a couple before he realizes they're not not drugs of some kind. He feels floaty and warm and calm, even as he's taking out his phone and texting to warn Klaus to stay away from the stuff. Hopefully giving him a heads up won't just make him more tempted to have some.

Still, Ben is really trying to be supportive, to help his brother manage his addiction without hovering constantly and treating him like a misbehaving child. So he resists the urge to fuss, and wanders through the trees instead. He's sucking a piece of sap candy when he spots a familiar horrible hat, a familiar pale hand waving in the air, hears a familiar soft voice.

Ben comes around, settling himself on the ground near to Cole, but not interrupting, waiting for him to pause before he asks: ]

Can you really talk to trees?

[ Honestly at this point he wouldn't be surprised. Plenty of cultures believed that trees had some kind of spirit or sentience, and if anybody here could have a chat with an orchard it would be Cole. Wordlessly, Ben holds out the handful of little hard sap candies that he's been eating from, offering one to Cole. ]

Hey, Cole.

onni hotakainen ❄ stand still. stay silent ❄ currently in game

[scowlish]

❄ Familiar Ground

[It isn't just real places that arrive in the shift inside the city, it seems, but also places that exist only in the dreams. Then again, this particular place feels real enough to Onni that it might as well be home, and it's true enough that the things that happen here are real to all the people participating.

Anyone walking past the edge of the park will find that it seems to keep going further than usual, that there's a place at the edge where moving through a light fog will lead you into a more open space. The colours are different here, more muted, and the terrain is different. The trees are closer together and as far as the eye can see, they crowd close together until they touch the sky at the horizon. After walking down a slight incline, the shores of a calm lake come into view, edged with ancient moss-coated boulders. On a strong, narrow tree that sits alone between copses, a large Eurasian Eagle Owl sits on a gnarled tree branch, eyes closed, the feathers around his neck fluffed out.

You'd be forgiven for thinking this is a normal owl in a normal Finnish forest, but anyone who approaches may be in for a bit of a surprise, as the owl lazily opens one eye to peer at anyone approaching, and makes a deep, put-upon, and very human sigh.]

What is it you want?

[OOC: A visual reference for Onni's dreamspace can be found here!]

Ami Aihara (Aradia Megido) | Homestuck (Recollé CRAU) | ingame

[livingdeadgirl]

[ Brackets or prose welcome! Ami's first impressions post is here. ]

1. everybody must get stoooooned

It doesn't take much robo-hassling to convince Ami to check out a party! Especially once she discovers something important about the eponymous Goop: the fact that it is fucking delicious.

Needless to say, she tries a little of everything. Cakes! Bonbons! Goop candied alien fruits! And she really enjoys the hot sap cider, even going back for seconds. By the time she realizes it might be some kind of intoxicant, she is far too blitzed to care.

So for much of the festival, the Tiny-Goth-In-Residence will just be lazily drifting from place to place, person to person, with half-lidded eyes and a wide, dopey-looking grin. If you're someone she's fond of (aka anyone she has ever had a non-negative interaction with), she will probably greet you with a hug.

"Heeeeey! How you doin'?"

2. dreamers and the dead

The euphoria only lasts as long as the festival, though. For one thing, she'll be spending the next several days incredibly embarrassed about her behavior there, and giving some serious thought to becoming a hermit forever. But also... thanks to that mini-Redshift, things are starting to go a little bit fucky.

Late one night, as she's coming back from the mess hall with a bowl of leftover casserole, she suddenly finds that she has no idea where she is.

Ami stops in her tracks, confused. It's true that Anchor's hallways all look pretty samey, but ... the mess hall is like, two minutes from her room. She's walked to and from there hundreds of times, she knows this part of the station like the back of her hand. How is she lost?

She tries to backtrack, but it's no use. All the corridors seem to lead in circles, upside down and inside out and looping in on themselves in impossible ways, and before long she's gone from lost to hopelessly lost. Where is she? Where's her room? Why is this happening? She's walked past these orange pipes twice already, she knows it!

And then she hits a dead end... but it's not a true dead end, she realizes, stepping closer. Instead, the hall is fully blocked by a sort of membrane - gently convex, gently shimmering, gently unearthly. It's almost transparent - and though she can't quite make out what's on the other side, this all seems somehow familiar...

Uncertain, she reaches out, and the surface ripples hypnotically where her fingers brush the surface. The membrane won't break, but there's almost no resistance. She could just... go through.

... Well, why not? It sure beats going in mobius circles for another half an hour, doesn't it? Her casserole's getting cold. Holding her breath, Ami closes her eyes and steps inside.

---

[ The mini-Redshift has brought with it a dream bubble. Like the Redshift itself, a dream bubble allows you to revisit locations and events from your past; but unlike the Redshift, it actively responds to thought and memory, resulting in a constantly shifting environment. Typically, interactions in dream bubbles begin with a mutual memory - i.e. reenacting a scene that's already happened, but with slight changes as the participants realize they've already done this. Once they figure out it isn't real, what happens next is up to them. They can visit any memory they want - or that they happen to think of sideways without meaning to! Dream bubbles are notoriously difficult to steer.

There are two ways to enter the bubble: 1. physically passing through its outer membrane while awake (like Ami did), or 2. mentally, while asleep. If awake, you can leave the same way you entered, but you can also die for real. If asleep, dying will merely cause you to disappear from the dream bubble and wake up unharmed, but you can't pass through the membrane.

For questions or an individual prompt hmu at Kae#6067 on Discord or caturday! ]

2. for Reynir

[livingdeadgirl]

She finds herself in the lobby of the VR Room. Which, on the one hand, is a huge relief, because she finally knows where she is! But on the other hand, she's somehow at the arcade machines already, without having walked there, and there's a controller in her hand, and she's handing the other one to Reynir...

Ah... this is the party, isn't it? Instead of her PJs, she's wearing the same thing she was that day. And yet all of this seems perfectly natural, somehow. It feels like she's playing out a scene, reciting from a script that she didn't have to memorize. It's like progressing through dialogue in a game, requiring no real conscious effort to keep doing.

"This game is called 'Fruit Ninja,'" she says, grinning. "Did you see, uh - Genji, I think? He was playing it earlier."

Qubit | Irredeemable (Mask or Menace CRAU) | ingame

[superposition]

[ Brackets or prose welcome! ]

01 | inspect( mysteryGoop ); pause();

Why is it that Anchor can't go a fortnight without some irritating robot malfunction or other? Qubit would really like to hear the answer to that one. At least they're not shooting at anyone this time, though.

Even though they've shut down most of the amenities, this is really only a minor inconvenience to him. By now, he's gotten his remote shutdown switch closer to 90% effectiveness - but even if that fails, he's gotten quite adept at disconnecting their batteries with his powers.

After making sure that certain vital areas will remain open - like, you know, the Medbay - he decides to go check out the Goop Festival itself. At a glance it seems fairly innocuous, but he can still be found taking samples early in the day, just to make sure this crap isn't toxic. Once he's confirmed that to his satisfaction, however - well, there's no harm in trying a bit of it himself, is there? You know, for science.

So, blink and you'll miss it, but Qubit actually sticks around for a couple hours, and... genuinely lets himself relax. He takes care not to overdo his intake, being well aware it's a mild intoxicant, but he does spend most of his time there holding a cup of hot sap that he sort of nurses throughout.

And yeah, part of him feels guilty for hanging out here when he's still got so much work to do, but that's par for the course anytime he does something for himself. So.

02 | Lab.access.revoke( user="Parker" );    // for Peter

Once he's had his fill of celebrating nothing in particular, though, Qubit of course heads back to R&D, casually shutting off the robot that tries to block his path. But... hm. Maybe it's the mild intoxicant talking, but he's got an idea.

(And the only thing more dangerous than Qubit with an idea is Drunk Qubit with an idea. okay he's not really drunk but, maybe shut up?)

Whenever Peter arrives at R&D, there will be no fewer than eight robots blocking the entrance. A couple of which are security bots. And they all greet him with their standard Goop Festival spiel at the same time, albeit sliiightly out of sync, just enough to be really, really irritating.

How badly do you want to go to work today, Parker? Ask yourself, really ask yourself: is it worth it?

03 | Redshift.generateLocale( fortressOfIsolation ); // cw: blood, dead children

When the little Redshift hits, it draws in a sliver of Qubit's homeworld, too. You'll know you're close when you start to feel the heat.

It's not quite unbearable heat, but it is oppressive, the kind of heat that makes a normal person break a sweat immediately, makes the air heavy and hard to breathe. There are some windows, with an intense orange light shining through - because on the other side there's only lava and volcanic rock. The low roar of the volcano is constant, drowning out any more distant sounds.

The fortress isn't here in its entirety, but there are several points of interest. One is the throne, accented with flame, located atop a steep dais, its sharp lines stark against the rough-hewn wall. And as if it didn't look ominous enough on its own, the armrests are stained with human blood.

The second is the playroom. It's decorated in bright colors and full of toys and books, like a kindergarten or day care, though of course it's still hot as hell. There are even children here, a good dozen or two of them - but they're all dead. The little skeletons are dressed up and posed as if playing or reading or napping, but they'll never do any of those again.

Not far from that - maybe even adjacent to the playroom, if spacetime is behaving - is a room with a group portrait framed on the wall. The room itself is trashed, with its decor strewn all over, fist-sized holes punched in the walls, and a huge "X" carved over the portrait itself. The man standing in the center, blond and muscular, wears the same symbol that was found on the throne.

The man on the far right is Qubit.

---

[ Feel free to either prompt something, or to just use these locations in your own threads as desired! As always, hmu at Kae#6067 on Discord or caturday for plotting or indiv. prompts. ]

3ish/4 | SURPRISE PHONE CALL [audio; un: longinmouth]

[abheirrant]

[It's a few days after he made a complete and utter mess out of what should have been an easy task that Carlisle calls Qubit. He sounds a little hoarse, but in all fairness he's had a troubling few weeks, and he's not sure who he can call regarding his particular set of problems. Qubit had offered to help, and so here Carlisle is, working up the nerve to ask for it properly.]

If you could spare a moment of your time, I was hoping we may speak.

[He'd say he wants to talk, but he sure doesn't.]