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Well Mod ([personal profile] wellie) wrote in [community profile] wellcome2023-09-30 08:55 pm

3.3 Event Plotting

3.3 Event Plotting

OOC announcements

Welcome to month 3! The end of the cycle, and October, and you know what that means!

There will be no event post on the main comm. Instead, make your own logs to include these prompts, and any other prompts you want to add. There will be a mini-event log mid-month.

Use the happenings form to report on what your character’s been up to! Did you break something? Did you get into a screaming match in the middle of town? Spill the tea! Everyone’s thirsty for gossip.

Post any bulletins to the bulletin board.
Plotting/CR form

Fill out as much or as little of this form as you like:


New this month

At the hotel

The dining hall features one long table and the same meals every day: a nice, continental breakfast, sandwiches for lunch, and a roast for dinner. But after the first week everything starts to taste sort of off and raw.

The pool is still out of order and empty, and at the bottom of the pool is a strange, rusty metallic build up.

Water is in even shorter supply this month: The taps splutter and spit air instead of water occasionally. It takes forever to fill up a glass or a bottle. Showers will be nearly impossible. Time for a sponge bath!

The General Store

The General Store is still full of fun outer space paraphernalia. You can find stationary with stars on it, candles shaped like planets, slime with alien-shaped charms in it, plastic astronaut helmets, whatever your heart desires as long as it’s useless, novelty, and space-themed.

Around town

The diner’s special for the month: cherry pie! Delicious.

The jail is still around... for now.

When you visit the few other locations in town, you’ll find the employees friendly and welcoming, although they may say some strange things, in addition to the handful of phrases they usually say:
The receptionist: “The town's been nice lately, hasn't it?”

Owner of the General Store: “Still got some jam! Livens up just about anything.”

The bartender: "Least we still got plenty of bottles."

The waiter: “I'm trying out a new cold brew to help with the heat!" And he serves you a cold brew—that's pretty weird. Maybe don't drink that.

The gravedigger: She’s nowhere to be seen during the day. At night, she’s digging graves.

The sheriff: Silently sits at his desk during the day and drinks at the bar at night.


Let the water hold me down
Content warnings: blood. Lots of blood. Floods of blood. Drinking blood. Risk of drowning. Storms, drought, flash floods.
The weather this month is quiet.

Baked by the heat of months, the desert is parched. Fine sand whirls up in small eddies, but…

that’s all.

There are no clouds on the horizon. What few animals are left are not running for the hills. There are no dust devils, and there is very little wind. The only change, really, seems to be the increasing drought: Water is nearly impossible to come by, the faucets barely a trickle.

Until the second week of the month, when they start to flow again. At first the water is pink and flowing freely. Over the course of a few days, it becomes deeper: magenta, then crimson, and then deep, bloody red. It smells increasingly metallic, and an awful lot like blood, actually.

Which, of course, it is! Might not want to drink that, unless B- is to your taste.

To find a drink this month, stop by the saloon or the diner, and drink something that doesn’t require water: alcohol, juice, milk. Those are still in supply. Coffee and tea are too, but the waiter is still using the “water” to make them, so they’re simply steeped in blood.

By the third week of the month, thick storm clouds gather, blotting out the sun. It’s a reprieve from the heat, but the clouds are strange, too. They’re a dark angry red, so deep it’s nearly black. For days they just squat over the town, blocking out the sun and casting everything into reddish gloom.

Then, as the fourh week begins, thunder cracks at dawn, sharp and loud enough to rattle even the sturdy Staywell. Lightning flashes. The heavy air splits. The clouds drop everything they’re holding all at once, torrential and fierce.

Naturally, the rain is red, and thick: blood, just like the rest of the water.

All this blood has nowhere to go. It rages over the parched surface of the desert in foaming torrents and slams hard into the town. By mid-morning on the first day of the storm, several buildings are gone, washed into debris, and the blood has formed standing pools in the town where they used to be. The jail is gone, and the General Store with it. The ground floors of the buildings that remain are uninhabitable, filled with feet of blood, and the rain just keeps coming.

Over the course of the week, more flooding and increased rain take out the whole desert. It begins to rise in the Staywell, taking each floor as it goes.

There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere is safe.

Except the graveyard, of course.

The graveyard is dry as a bone.

tl;dr:
  • Nothing happens for weeks and weeks. It's quiet, too quiet. The water becomes less and less available, and around week two turns to blood. It starts pinkish, and starts flowing deep, deep red by week three. It isn’t potable anymore, unless you happen to like the taste of blood.
  • The only potable drinks are found at the diner and the saloon, which are open (almost) all month. You can drink just about anything that isn’t mixed with water at the establishment (no coffee or tea, but yes juice, milk, or alcohol).
  • The last week of the month, thick, reddish storm clouds blot out the sun and hover for days.
  • They rain blood. And with the ground so dry, the blood soaks it immediately, and then has nowhere to go. It floods the town, floods the ground floors, and fills up the buildings in the town. There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere is safe.
  • Except the graveyard, of course.

How did I get here?
Content warnings: body horror, abduction, torture, surgical-like procedures without anesthetic, being buried alive. To avoid descriptions, skip over the blockquote below.
You wake up in the graveyard. You’re in your own grave: sealed underground in a casket, or in freshly dug earth, your faded gravestone marking the spot. You might want to get out of there, stat.

It's a while after your last memory of Wellstone: you’ve been gone for days, maybe a week. You disappeared, it seems, in the blink of an eye. You may not remember where you were, or what happened to you. You seem fine. Right?
You wake up strapped to a cold stone table. It’s roughly cut, scraping against your bare skin, jutting in places and dipping in others. The ceiling above you, if it can be called that, is red-black and moving obscenely. In your nose the air is hot and foul.

Holding you to the table are straps, or… something like them. They’re warm. Very warm, and tacky against your skin, almost like flesh. They wrap around your limbs and your hips and your throat, keeping you pinned firmly.

And then they start to move.

They squeeze you tight, tight enough, maybe, to break your ribs. They slice you open with tines as sharp as cactus spikes, like they’re looking for something inside you. They probe down your throat, into your chest, your lungs.

They aren’t kind. They aren’t careful. They don’t seem particularly concerned with keeping you alive, even.

They press into your ears and your nose. They worm their way into your head: worse, into your mind with a pain so searing it seems death would be kinder. It’s possible you’ve felt an echo of it before: it’s the same pain you feel when a memory flares, only with the volume turned unbearably higher. Blood drips from everywhere it can, pooling warm and sticky around you, dripping unseen onto a stone floor. All this may trigger a memory of something deeply held, something that you believe in so strongly that you’ll find it impossible that you forgot it in the first place.

You can’t escape. You may try, but you’re prone, your body barely under your own control, even if you had much strength left.

Eventually, somehow, it ends: you black out, from pain or blood loss or something worse. It must end, anyway, because you wake again in the graveyard days after you last remember being free.
Your character has been abducted! They disappeared from wherever they were in the blink of an eye, and are gone for up to a week.

For this prompt, you can decide what exactly happens to your character during their abduction, and you can decide how much or little your character remembers of their abduction: the whole thing in awful detail, or hazy painful impressions, or nothing at all. If you choose to obfuscate the experience now, you can have them remember it later on through a memory regain that doesn’t require points. The intent of this prompt is that your character disappears for up to a week, and undergoes a terrible experience during that time. The actual abduction isn’t intended to be heavily interacted with, but the aftermath is. This can only happen once per character.

Characters who were abducted can earn 3 memory points. You can choose to use them on the memory indicated in the prompt, another memory now, or save them for later.

tl;dr:
  • You’ve been abducted!
  • During the abduction, you’re strapped down, and some pretty nasty stuff happens to you. Player choice what and how much. You can die there, or simply be pretty messed up.
  • You’re gone for 4-7 days.
  • Your character can remember as much or as little as you want them to.
  • You wake up in your grave. You can be sealed in, or not.
  • Characters who were abducted earn 3 memory points.
  • A character can only be abducted once using this prompt.

Same as it ever was
Content warnings: Impersonation, manipulation, body horror
If the quiet and the blood and the disappearances weren’t bad enough, well: it gets worse. You knew it would.

Familiar faces begin to crop up again, through crowds in the diner, wandering in from the edge of town. They are, of course, your own.

The doubles are back.

Like before, each character has a double of themself running around town. They are everything that you are and more: they are your strongest self, your worst self, full of your worst and darkest impulses and all the skills and knowledge that you’ve forgotten. Their goal is to become you, and if you’ve been abducted, they’ll try particularly hard to convince people that they’re you and undermine your relationships and your reputation while they’re at it.

Something seems to be wrong with all of these other versions of you, though. Try to convince your friends that everything is okay. They're you, they're safe and normal and Wellstone is a safe and normal town. Everything’s okay here and maybe we shouldn’t worry after all and just let it happen?

However, occasionally, something weird will happen, either:
  1. Their voices will be taken over with static, fritzing out across frequencies. They’ll clutch at anyone nearby, trying desperately to communicate with your friends in a chorus of voices that can’t be made out.
  2. Their voices will be taken over by a low, unearthly groan. It’s bodily and visceral and makes anyone within earshot feel like they need to run and hide. When this takes over the doubles, their eyes go lifeless and their bodies limp, like marionettes.
When any double touches you, from the point of contact outward, searing pain rolls under your skin as it begins to rot. Your thoughts, memories, and sense of self warp and turn to hazy static. The longer they hold on, the worse these effects will be, and the stronger the doppelgänger will get. If they hold on long enough, you’ll simply die.

When your actual self returns (if you do), you may need to convince your friends that you are indeed the real one. Are you?

tl;dr:
  • The doubles are back! Each character has a doppelganger who embodies their worst self.
  • The doubles are intent on replacing characters, and will particularly try to do this when a character has been abducted.
  • Sometimes, the doubles might act a little strange. They will either sound like radio static, or an unearthly horrible groan.
  • If any double (not just your own) touches you, you hurt, and the world twists and warps. The longer they hold on, the worse it gets, and if they don’t let go eventually you will die.

necrolord: <user name="thebutt"> (i can feel it on my tongue)

questions for blood & tentacles

[personal profile] necrolord 2023-10-09 05:17 pm (UTC)(link)
1. If a necromancer uses blood magic to separate solids from plasma, or plasma from water, can he produce drinkable/less-tainted liquid?

2. Do doppelgangers bleed the same not-quite-human blood as the blood flood?

3. Say a character can sense blood, death, and bodies even from a distance. Would he be able to perceive anything extra (eg. horrifying vastness, an unexpected number of moving limbs or bodies, etc) during abduction?
necrolord: <user name="thebutt"> (i can feel it on my tongue)

[personal profile] necrolord 2023-10-09 06:20 pm (UTC)(link)
HELL YEAH @ all of this, John is absolutely not lucid enough to follow up further. Thanks!
necrolord: <user name="thebutt"> (brick and mortar thick as scripture)

Re: answers for blood & tentacles

[personal profile] necrolord 2023-10-13 02:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Followup questions! Let's say a guy has a chance to examine a doppelcorpse at length, having previously examined the corpse of the person being impersonated. (John spends a normal amount of time looking at corpses.) Will he be able to notice any differences other than a general "human+" makeup of blood and bones? Does the process of the doublecorpse rotting into a skeleton seem like the same rot they weaponize against PCs? Do they have a different "death-energy signature" than the people they're impersonating, eg. they're soaked in death in a way normal PCs aren't?