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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!


wastor: (@ konsta nikkilä)

[personal profile] wastor 2019-06-21 01:25 pm (UTC)(link)
[The ballerina in her little box spins around until Murphy turns to face her. Then she stops, though the music still plays, and her arms are still outstretched toward him.]
mofi: (T100_S4_E6_1170)

[personal profile] mofi 2019-06-21 06:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Air gets pushed out from his lungs and his cheeks puff out when he sighs. The music has stopped at least. For now, it's just him and the ballerina. Reaching out to him, again ].

Yeah, I get it. [ He's not too sure. It could all just be a coincidence. Someone could just be fucking with him, dipping their fingers into his mind, teasing out the tangles. Murphy steps closer to the desk and when he is close enough, stoops down to be eye level with the ballerina. ]

Here is the deal. [ Like he can call the shots or something. ] I take you and you help me. Comprende? [ And, no, he is in no way fluent in Spanish. ]
wastor: (@ konsta nikkilä)

[personal profile] wastor 2019-06-21 06:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[To be fair, neither is the ballerina.

Though she does bobble, as though flicked by an unseen hand. It's almost as though she's nodding.]
mofi: (LGSvM7Q)

[personal profile] mofi 2019-06-21 07:54 pm (UTC)(link)
Good, Miss Dancer. [ Someone needs to tell him this is a ballerina and not some woman wearing a costume. It looks nice, though, whatever she is wearing. ]

Unless you want to be called something else? [ Murphy looks at the intimate object expectantly. Whatever, he's gone crazy, may as well talk to it rather than himself.

But is there really a difference? ]
wastor: (@ konsta nikkilä)

[personal profile] wastor 2019-06-21 10:58 pm (UTC)(link)
[There may just be, considering Tiny Dancer now acts as a compass, outstretched arms always pointing away from shadow creatures, away from danger.]
mofi: (T100_S4_E6_1143)

[personal profile] mofi 2019-06-22 12:02 am (UTC)(link)
[ The room is quiet no sign of the ballerina wanting to be called something else. He does notice that she has subtly spun in another direction, outstretched arm leading and pointing the way. ]

Alright. Here we go. [ Murphy keeps the music box open, looking both at the ballerina and the direction he was currently walking in. ]