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!


ragnarsson: ([17.6] Trying to listen)

[personal profile] ragnarsson 2019-06-03 08:27 am (UTC)(link)
[Ivar might not recognize most of the words, but the tone? Yep, he's heard that before, usually from his mother on one of the rare occasions she scolded him. That's not usually the reaction most people would have to a knife being wielded in their general reaction. It causes a confused headtilt from Ivar. Also, he's pretty sure he was called rude somewhere in there. (Apparently, that's one word that only evolved a little in over a thousand years.)

Does this...does this man not understand that a knife being pointed at him is usually a dangerous threat? He'd been thinking he was just kind of an odd bird standing there in weird clothes, but now Ivar's wondering if he's not some sort of idiot.]


Abedisse...abedisse ðu woda gelíc? Doth ðu forstandan hwa ic bióm efen cwide?

['Are...are you crazy or something?' Old English had words divided up into weak or strong words. Woda was a weak one, referring to madmen and the insane. Wod was stronger, but it referred to those rabid and raging wild with their insanity. At least Ivar thought Ben mostly harmless in his craziness. 'Do you understand what I'm even saying?']
fumitory: (47)

[personal profile] fumitory 2019-06-05 07:23 pm (UTC)(link)
( it's just confusion all around apparently, and for once, Ben feels as though that's rather appropriate for the setting. the words are nonsense to him, unfortunately, but interestingly enough...the incredulous tone manages to make it across.

Ben, looking a little more exasperated, waves his hands briefly in front of himself, scrambling for what to do with this nonsense exchange.
) Listen, I don't... All right, let's just—

( whatever it was that Ben was about to say — calm down, put the knife away you dolt, something along those lines — the words wither on his tongue. he pauses, staring past the man's broad shape, into the well of darkness beyond.

Ben...saw movement.

at least, he thinks he saw something, a shift, but it's all darkness. his eyes have difficulty reconciling it, if it was but a trick of the mind, or...

with careful steps, both to keep the stranger from misunderstanding intentions and to avoid disrupting anything hiding in the dim, Ben moves forward. his eyes don't return to the other man, but remain steady and level on the stretch of labyrinth behind him. Ben might have a practice that keeps him appearing steady, but as he strides closer to the other, one finger held up in what hopefully stands as a universal suggestion to pause, Ben's edges certainly tremble with anticipation.

when he glances at the man finally, just a few feet away, Ben points at his eyes (saw), then to the corridor beyond him. in his right hand, he lifts the glowing feather up, held out and past the other man like a torch, and it may seem simple: to illuminate the path that winds into thick darkness.
)
ragnarsson: ([20.1] Face to face with a murderer)

[personal profile] ragnarsson 2019-06-11 11:13 am (UTC)(link)
[Who knows where things are about to go. Likely Ivar wouldn't have attacked no matter what, this strange man who sounds vaguely like a Saxon to his ears baffling him more then presenting himself as any sort of real threat.

Then he realizes that Ben seems to see or sense something that Ivar doesn't. His hackles are immediately raises in a different sort of way. Like a wary dog, he allows Ben to move closer to him without any sort of retaliation. When it seems like he doesn't mean him any sort of harm, he calms slightly, at least in the sense that he doesn't think that Ben poses any sort of threat.

His fierce expression instead turns towards the corridor that Ben is looking down. Is there some sort of threat coming from there? He allows Ben to take the lead on this, if only because he clearly knows something that Ivar doesn't. Still, the grip on the knife is flipped around with a smooth movement into a forward grip, the blade pointed up towards the pointer finger. It's a much better position if he needs to quickly stab someone with it.]