wastemods: (Default)
wasteyard mods ([personal profile] wastemods) wrote in [community profile] wasteyard2019-05-18 02:36 pm

THE SKY WENT OFF-WHITE.

WHO: Anyone and everyone.
WHAT: Our inaugural test drive meme.
WHERE: Anywhere in the world core.
WHEN: Whenever your character arrives.
NOTES: Expect surreal horror and possible violence. Please use common sense when warning for other content.



Art by Basile Godard

THE SUNLIGHT SPLINTERED.

You reach the end of the ash-gray hall at a run, hands fumbling for an antique door handle. And then you stumble, fall, tumble—any number of adjectives, depending on where, exactly, the door opened—into a radio station.

The equipment is old and dusty, but devoid of cobwebs to the observant eye. And it's dark, save for whatever light makes it through the windows. They display disjointed locations; perhaps one shows an upside-down tower, while its neighbors frame the crumbling pavement of a rotting car park and the stripped out interior of a sewer. Whatever the case, peering through one window reveals a landscape that impossibly doesn't connect to the next.

The door is still there, the only exit to this grubby room. It opens somewhere, anywhere else in this distorted world. And once you leave, it no longer leads back whence you came.

Where do you go?


THE LIGHT, DIVIDED.

A sun on one horizon, a full moon on the other. They're luminous but unreal, like they were plucked from a sky and pasted to a flat, starless backdrop. You can see only one, depending on which side you entered; it's essentially random. Both "sides" overlap like alternate dimensions and you can't see anyone who isn't on the same side as you. Light or dark, you walk in the light of a muted sun or an overbright moon. It never feels quite real.

Neither star nor satellite seem to move from their position. The passage of time is at a standstill.

Regardless of which side you're on, you'll find signs that you aren't alone. What someone does on one side affects the other, so moving an item or writing something down will translate to floating items and mysteriously appearing letters. Speech doesn't travel...unless there's a radio. Radios may turn on and off, with voices audible through the white noise. And if you walk past a mirror, the reflection isn't your own. Instead, it acts as a window to the other side.

In-character observations:
  • Anyone sensitive to time, space, and related dimensional shenanigans will feel they're distorted. And it isn't something they can fix, at least not with powers.
  • It's possible to cross dimensions if a character has related powers, but they'll suffer backlash and significant stress from the transition. Successive jumps aren't gonna fly.
  • If a character is affected by the sun or moon, they'll find neither holds sway over them here; e.g., vampires can walk in daylight and werewolves won't shift in the full moon.
TL;DR: Whatever this is, it isn't natural.


THE SHADOW REALM.

Outdoors, there are shadows on the prowl.

Silent and eerily insubstantial, they trail after you like blind spots given form. Staring at them too long is unsettling but, for the most part, they're content to watch you back...if they can watch. They don't seem to have eyes.

When that isn't enough, however, they attack. Stealing the shape of monsters from other worlds, they may lack special powers, but that doesn't keep them from being dangerous. When in doubt, you're safest indoors.

But maybe that isn't good enough for you. Or maybe you just fucked up. Either/or.


RADIO WAVES.

If you aren't wondering how you got here, you're probably at least asking why. Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be anyone around who can answer your questions. Everyone else is as clueless as you.

But, some time after you arrive—whether it's days, hours, minutes, or seconds—the dead air stirs. The atmospheric pressure drops and playhouse lightning arcs across the facsimile of a sky. It's a storm that warns of what's to come, as an earthquake shifts the ground beneath your feet. Around you, buildings flood, and water pours out in falls only half aware of gravity. Wind hurls debris at such high speeds, it turns into shrapnel. Rain pelts you from above and below as the temperature plummets. It starts to snow.

Somehow, the sun and moon remain visible through the turmoil. A collection of mirrors scattered through the world don't reflect their light; instead, it passes through them and illuminates the other side. These specific mirrors, all set in ash-gray frames that match the halls, are untouched in the unfolding natural disasters, and standing before them will shield you as well. Consider them havens in the chaos, proverbial eyes in the storm.

In the dark, a radio turns on of its own accord. Is someone—something—talking to you?


INTO ALL OUR DARKEST FEARS.

Welcome to THE WASTEYARD's first test drive! Some quick things to remember:
  • Our TDMs tie into the game plot. As such, any applicants can keep their TDM threads as game canon.
  • The network is exclusive to in-game characters. TDM characters can only use radios.
  • There is a language barrier, so please mention what language your character speaks somewhere.
  • We don't have a fixed day ratio; instead, you pace yourself at your discretion.
  • Characters may face backlash when using any powers.
  • Mark if your character is on the sun or moon side of the divide. The choice is yours as the player.
  • If you have any questions, please direct them to our FAQ!
And that's all, folks. So take chances, make mistakes, and get messy!


sorrypardonyesthankyou: (12)

[personal profile] sorrypardonyesthankyou 2019-05-30 10:51 pm (UTC)(link)
I don't see. [There's no acrimony or accusation there--it's just a fact. (And admittedly, it's a little more complicated than that, but it's also a callback to canon, so whatever.)]

From Earth yes, not thirty-four.

[Ruth pauses, considering the implied question, how old are you? Normally easy to answer, and even now, it shouldn't be hard, but keeping track of any kind of time has been...difficult.

And lately, she has felt old.]


Nineteen. Pardon. Sorry, no-- Give or take. Lived in Brooklyn.
omniavincit: (pic#12264102)

[personal profile] omniavincit 2019-06-03 01:58 pm (UTC)(link)
[ A pause. ] I'm from Connecticut. [ Said with a hint of self-reproach. He hates this kind of talk, hates himself for making it—thank god they're not both from Brooklyn, he'd be asking about her favorite pizza place. Stalling, is what it is.

“I don't see.” Not can't. ]
You said you were fighting a war. [ Another pause, this one quick. When William speaks again, he sounds more focused—in fact, it's almost as though the radio's reception has improved. ] Whose?
sorrypardonyesthankyou: (08)

[personal profile] sorrypardonyesthankyou 2019-06-04 12:28 am (UTC)(link)
Yeah. Thank you.

[Calling it "war" might be melodrama, but it had felt like one. The X-Men against everything else, from giant robots to people with hatred in their blood. And in the last few days (days? or weeks, maybe, or longer), it had been something more than that, too. They'd been fighting the future--the whole idea of existing for a reason.]

Not...sorry, no, not a real war. Just a lot of fighting. Sorry. What was yours?
Edited 2019-06-04 13:15 (UTC)
omniavincit: (the pulse as it rises and falters)

[personal profile] omniavincit 2019-06-05 02:46 pm (UTC)(link)
It was fucked up. [ His voice dips. He twists his hands together, going over everything he's told her: real name, place of birth. Probably not enough—and the idea that the Regency could follow him here, to this place that exists in defiance of order of any kind, seems far-fetched.

He hesitates all the same. He's linked to Dolores; it's never just himself he risks. ]
Maybe this—I hope this sounds insane, but we could travel through time. Maybe we tied it in knots, maybe that's what this is.

How do you fight when you're...how do you fight what you can't see?