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wasteyard mods ([personal profile] wastemods) wrote in [community profile] wasteyard2019-07-20 06:10 pm

RUINS I HAD LEFT BEHIND.

WHO: Everyone in game!
WHAT: Our next event, primarily set in the ruins.
WHERE: Anywhere in the core or ruins.
WHEN: During ruins exploration.
NOTES: Surreal horror, body horror, and possible violence. Please use common sense when warning for other content.



Art by Nicolas Lopez

CALL ME MAYBE.

The weather begins to change, the haze that hangs over the ruins thickening into a mist. It remains thin in the trees, but transforms into dense fog in open areas like the glade, bog, and swamp. Here, it's nigh impossible to see more than ten feet at a time. St. Elmo's fire becomes more and more prevalent, dancing through the vapor. At the outskirts of these spaces, animals call to each other in alarm, sensing something amiss. Anansi settle low in trees, clicking ominously from their perches. Cherts flee to their burrows. The sound of singing moss grows to a fever pitch, before sudden silence descends across the forest.

The radios still hiss with white noise, but the sound is choppy with little spits of interference. Sometimes, you might hear the voice of someone you once knew calling your name, stilted and distant.

Following the sound will lead you to old bones hidden across the ruins. Sometimes they're twisted and malformed, to the point it's impossible to tell who or what they belonged to. Other skeletons are easily identified as nonhuman, while others are unmistakably human. Some even appear to have received some semblance of burial, in contrast to those left subject to the elements.

And some bones are sealed in stone coffins—or so you realize after you open one. While there are tombs that only take a sharp shove to open, others require two people, even with super strength; they have contraptions that require two sets of hands to unlatch, on opposite ends of the casket. It's fairly basic (cinch and lift), but very child proof.

So if you want to (perhaps inadvertently) rob one of these graves, it's gonna take two of you.


BLACK SUN.

For those of you who remained in or ventured back into the core, the black blot remains in lieu of a sun or moon, like someone sawed a circle out of the sky. But while this dark splotch doesn't seem to cast or reflect light, it remains eternally twilight in this part of the world. The light doesn't change even as the circle in the sky rises and sets.

In the stairwells that lead to the ruins, fossils in the walls seem to shiver with repressed movement, like ancient fish swimming through their surface. You might catch some minuscule movement if you stare too long, like a trick of the light, but turn your back and it's as if the world shifted without you even noticing.

Other than that, it's peaceful, inasmuch as a constantly rearranging world can be considered peaceful. The snow has stopped and the temperature has stabilized at a relatively comfortable 10°C (50°F) to 15°C (60°F). In fact, it's so peaceful, it's as if the weather has departed entirely.

However, while the air might be stagnant, the shadows still stir.


I LOST YOU, DIDN'T I.

Get ready for some body horror.

The shadows continue to behave erratically, trailing after anyone who gets too close. It's a steady pursuit; even if a shadow isn't fast, all of them are tenacious and one could easily ambush you. They cling to anyone they catch, touch icy enough to burn, and long-term contact could result in frostbite. Like before, extended contact fills you with longing and the sense of being adrift somewhere vast, like you're chasing something beyond the horizon.

If you shake the shadow off, you feel a sense of loss, as if it stole a piece of yourself in the same way it steals your silhouette before melting away. You want back whatever it took, even if touching it again fills you with pain. For hours or even days, you can't stop seeing little flickers of movement out of the corner of your eyes.

...Unless the shadow burrows beneath your flesh, first.

It's as creepy as it sounds, physical darkness scurrying across your skin like a parasite that's truly alive. And then it's gone like a trick of the light, leaving you pondering if it ever happened at all. It leaves no blemish behind and, as a boon, other shadows begin to ignore you.

But it won't take long to realize you no longer feel the cold...or warmth.


I THINK I LOST MYSELF.

For anyone infested by a shadow, it starts out small. Food loses its flavor. Sounds become muffled, like you're underwater. Colors lose their vibrancy and smells cease to register. Touch turns into nothing more than dull vibrations. You lose small but intrinsic parts of your existence, distracting enough that you might not even notice the darkness that has resurfaced on your skin.

It doesn't burn. It doesn't feel like much of anything at all, despite the way it steadily consumes you. At least, you don't feel it physically; mentally, it makes you more volatile. The shadows erode and subsume your sense of self, just as they overwrite your body with their own.

The appearance of the parasitic shadows may be symbolic of your inner self, your thoughts and feelings, or simply something important to you (from a player standpoint, you can do whatever you want with the way the shadows look as they grow from your character's body). The shadows are also a mild form of hive mind, which means you can sense the presence of other shadows and other hosts. It doesn't matter where they are; you know each other's location and general state of being, to the point you intuitively understand how to cooperate.

Possessed individuals remain semi-aware (and how much they remember is up to players), but the line between yourself and the shadow possessing you blurs more and more. But if the parasite is removed, you'll realize the shadows are echoes of people who once lived here. They may not have been human or come from this world, much like yourselves, but they lived in these ruins as well as they could.

The memories themselves are unclear, more emotional than anything concrete, but you'll vividly recall a disaster, as if cobbled together out of dozens of apocalyptic films. And you'll know that whatever happened is what left these people as nothing more than shadowy dregs of themselves.


DESOLATION, ISOLATION.

For anyone unaffected, it's possible to avoid the parasites. In fact, the secret lies with the bones.

If you have one or more coffin-plundered bones on your person, the shadows may shy away and avoid you. It's a bit luck of the draw; the long and the short of it is the shadows respond specifically to bones that belonged to them, once upon a time. Shadows will stay in the general vicinity of their bones, to the point of moving a host closer to where they lie, regardless of where they were originally possessed.

Also, it's possible to communicate with anyone possessed by a shadow. They aren't necessarily rational and have no coherent sense of self, but they seem to have personalities. If caught and restrained, some will threaten their captors and others will beg for their lives. Others will mimic their hosts, or shift through various personas. They're a hive mind, after all.

Removing the shadows from someone is trickier. While some of them can be convinced to leave and may even return to their tombs, you need to force others to give up a physical form. You can do this by destroying their bones; once you find the right skeleton, you can turn the corresponding shadow to dust.


LOCKED IN A MEMORY.

Some quick things to remember about the ruins (which you can freely explore, as per the previous log):
  • The archive is OOC knowledge only; characters need to ICly learn info through trial and error. Or gossip.
  • It's impossible to see the sky overhead, but sunlight does make it down somehow.
  • All plant life, including those in the archive, glow if an area is dark enough.
  • All flora and fauna, including those in the archive, bleed black. Many of them may also smell of rot.
  • Attempting to remove a living organism from the ruins will kill it. Removing anything with special properties will nullify those properties, unless they're treated (boiled, cooked, etc) first.
  • You can handwave something's existence if it's generic, not permanent or recurring, and won't interfere with other players' fun (e.g., random fruit trees, nondescript rodents, general weather).
If you have any questions about anything pertaining to this log, you can ask us about it here or on the FAQ!


( RUINS: EXPLORATION | ARCHIVE )

snikthatch: (sick; gone dark)

logan | marvel 616 | cw: body/psychological horror

[personal profile] snikthatch 2019-07-29 09:42 pm (UTC)(link)
i. I looked out this morning and the sun was gone - (the core)

The fog, the snow, the eerie silence, the lack of discernible night and day -- it's all starting to get to Logan. He's lived in places like this before, briefly. Alaska, Russia, Iceland for a while. He knows what it's like. There's no reason for it to bug him this much, except here, there's no way out. No plane to take him back to New York. Not even a blue sky, just suffocating greyness filled with the looming shadows of buildings and trees.

It gets to him.

So, he falls back on bad habits. He withdraws, he drinks. And he hunts.

At first he sticks to the ruins, skulking his way through half-familiar trees, checking in on Ruth and Ellie and the others at a distance. Ignoring the voices that whisper at him from the mist. He hunts the spiders and the bird-dogs and the strange plant cats, though they start to disappear as the fog draws in.

Then he goes back to the core and starts hunting the shadows. He figures maybe they're a piece of the thing that's keeping them here; maybe he can find answers. It's an easy enough lie that he can make himself believe it.

Maybe you find him in the middle of a fight, or maybe he's just stalking in the snow. Either way, watch yourself. The Wolverine isn't in a good mood.


ii. I closed my eyes and I slipped away - (the ruins)

It happens eventually. The shadows are too numerous and too immune to Logan's claws. They keep coming back. They start hunting him in turn. And his healing factor can't keep up, ground away by privation and the world's magic.

Maybe, in some way, he welcomes it.

He goes down, snarling and snapping, under a pile of shadows in the ruins of a building and emerges as a different creature.

At first he hardly notices the difference, but when it happens, it happens fast. For a man who lives and dies by his senses, when they go dull it's like living deep within the fog that now shrouds the ruins. But the shadow parasite in his mind keeps him quiet, telling him it's nothing to worry about, he just needs to find somewhere calm. So he seeks it out, a quiet place to match the growing quiet in his mind. Black knives bleed out from his knuckles, staining the air. He resumes his hunt, though he doesn't know why, or what for.

This time, you won'd find him fighting. Just standing, or wandering through the trees, muttering to himself or occasionally keening quietly like a wounded animal.


iii. more than a feeling - wildcard

Want something else from Logan? PM me on here or poke me on Plurk/Discord and let's work something out!