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!


wastor: (Default)

[personal profile] wastor 2019-05-28 12:05 pm (UTC)(link)
[The sound cuts off when Eliot moves the glass. For a moment, everything is still and silent.

Then, when the screw touches George's grate, something shifts. George (and the screw and the glass and anything else not nailed down) starts to slide across the wooden boards, as gravity rotates ninety degrees. A door bangs open in the newly appointed floor.]
itselbitch: (i have made a grave mistake)

[personal profile] itselbitch 2019-05-28 02:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[ what the-- ] FUCK.

[ eliot grasps for bearing against the floor (wall?) as he footing slips and he slides across to the wall (floor???). this is straight up some through the looking glass bullshit, and as much as he always wanted to visit wonderland because it seemed like such a beautifully fucked up place, he kind of preferred he would be more able bodied than he is right now, just in case an army of cards decides to chase him. ]

George. Did you do this? Or is it this room?

[ asking a radio makes sense if this is wonderland now though, right? he's totally not crazy. ]
wastor: (Default)

[personal profile] wastor 2019-05-28 10:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[George, tragically, does not have an answer. The radio clatters to the bottom of the room, nearly hitting a window and getting tangled in curtain instead. It remains there, desolate. If, you know, George were actually a toy dog and not an anthropomorphized radio.

The room creaks around Eliot, as if it sways in a high wind.]
itselbitch: (in the shadow i wake)

[personal profile] itselbitch 2019-05-29 12:15 am (UTC)(link)
[ even being an lifeless radio now, eliot feels a bit bad because of how sad it looks mashed into the curtain. maybe if it didn't seem like some crazy, imperative, horror movie macguffin, he could let himself care less, but somehow, someway, george must be pivotal to. something. he assumes.

limping over with his cane, he unhooks the curtain and bundles george up like a swaddled child, wanting to protect him it in case something troubling really is happening outside of the room. now that it's all shifted though, there's not really a way to leave.

eliot peeks through the window below to see what the hell is on the other side. ]
wastor: (Default)

[personal profile] wastor 2019-05-29 11:33 am (UTC)(link)
[...It looks like an ordinary office building, poorly lit in the way of closing hours.

The door, meanwhile, opens somewhere else entirely. It still swings back and forth, and leads into a vast inky darkness.]
itselbitch: (just. why.)

[personal profile] itselbitch 2019-05-29 02:36 pm (UTC)(link)
[ uh. that's. new. eliot shuffles over to look at through the busted door and spies the void instead of the sunlight that had been there earlier. jesus, if there isn't a more obvious "go this way so you don't die" arrow...

he sets the blanketed george beside the window and kneels down, sliding the frame open with a grunt. going in means dropping down and hopefully being able to land on something not a million feet away and die. since he'd like to get out of this alive, he stays kneeled, looking through the half open window to figure out how the hell to not die immediately after going through.

so much for that proverbial arrow. ]
Edited (i'm not awake yet) 2019-05-29 14:37 (UTC)
wastor: (Default)

[personal profile] wastor 2019-05-29 03:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[The room yawns invitingly before him, if horror movie lighting is ever inviting. There's a cubicle nearby within dropping distance, arranged like so many others with neat corridors of space; if it weren't for the musty smell, someone might believe the employees will be back in the morning.

But... If Eliot takes the risk and hops through, he'll find gravity wildly reorient itself beneath him. Despite it being totally fucked in his current room, everything in this office remains firmly rooted in place. Logically, all of it should have fallen to the other side of the room, but logic took its leave a long time ago.]
itselbitch: (never bet on me)

[personal profile] itselbitch 2019-05-31 03:01 am (UTC)(link)
[ the route seems feasible enough, even if it's not the most preferred. he definitely would rather not lose his balance somehow and just plummet to the other side fo the room, especially if the place is as abandoned as it seems, but it's this or black nothingness, so.

he takes a slow breath and prepares himself. then, with his cane and george held to his chest and side, he slips on through.



only to find everything flipping on him (again). he yelps as his own weight is thrown over himself, and he ends up on his stomach (in severe pain) with a defeated groan. ]
Fuck, fuck, fuck.

[ he whines under his breath as he rolls himself onto his back, noticing the unmoving furniture then and more than grateful it didn't all didn't come crashing down on him. ]

When is my white rabbit going to save me? [ he grouses and gradually pulls himself upright. he doesn't think he's popped any stitches, but it still fucking hurts. ] God, even Alice would do.

[ especially if it's the alice he knows because he's sure she'd be able to figure this shit out a whole faster. and help him from not popping anything, stitches or otherwise. ]