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🤡🤡🤡
âś– THE CARNIVAL
â… . ARRIVAL & THE TEMPLE
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
You can see the lights of the Ferris wheel from the water, and by the time you pull into port you can smell popcorn, cotton candy, grease, sawdust. Music drifts on the air, interspersed with screams from the rides.
The carnival is in town.
Not just any carnival, either - the carnival. The one to end all others. Every circus you ever read about or saw in a movie, with striped tents filled with acrobats and sideshows, midway games complete with carnival barkers in straw boater hats. But it's also every shitty fair that ever rolled through your hometown, with unreliable looking men with greasy mullets smoking as they jockey the Wild Mouse, the Gravitron, the Zipper, the Corkscrew. There's a constant stream of 80s hair metal playing underneath the roar of the rollercoaster tracks, blending somehow with the traditional piping organ of the carousel.
Experienced Travelers will know by now that every island has its own temple, and this one is no exception. It’s not in the carnival proper, though; if you step away from the lights of the midway and tents, you’ll notice dozens of old wooden circus trailers, arranged in a circle, growing tighter together the closer to the center you walk. The trailers are functional living places, with built in beds - sometimes one, sometimes two - and a small table and an old wood burning stove with a cooking top just big enough to boil a kettle on. There’s a toilet, but if you want a shower you’ll have to go outside and find a tent set up at the outskirts of the makeshift trailer park where there are tent showers set up, locker room style.
The clearing in the middle of the parked caravan is completely empty except for a solitary midway game: a towering high striker. It must be at least twenty feet tall, surmounted by a round, red bell. A wooden mallet is leaned against a sign next to the game that reads, predictably, TEST YOUR STRENGTH.
Step right up.
â…ˇ. HALL OF MIRRORS
When it comes to amusements, the Hall of Mirrors has always been second-fiddle to the Haunted House. But the line for the former was shorter, so here you are. The guy working the door has weasel eyes and is smoking. He gestures for you and whoever is behind you to enter together; "No singles. For safety."
The lights are a dull neon, cycling from deep blue to cyan to purple and back again. You find that your outstretched fingers will bump against smooth, clear glass as often as not. The mirrors reflect the maze back into itself over and over, disorienting and strange.
Some of the mirrors are convex, some concave, and as you pass them your reflection warps and bends alongside that of whoever you're stuck inside the maze with.
At some point you will realise that the reflection looking back at you isn't quite right. It's still you, sure, but it's not how you really look, not on the outside.
Looking back at you from the cold glass is how you perceive yourself. Perhaps that's stronger, perhaps uglier, perhaps as a sniveling child or an ancient hag. And this reflection is going to follow you from mirror to mirror as you desperately try to find your way out.
One of you spots an exit sign, bleeding red light. Only catch is that it's behind a pane of glass. And another. And another. You could break your way through all of them, certainly, but it's not as if there's anything laying around for you to use to do so. Just yourself, which might work in action movies but tends to cause a lot of physical damage in the real world.
Above the glass someone has placed a sticker that reads, “who are you really?” in black sharpie. Answer it, and the glass will swing open. Don't, and well...
Guess you'll have several years worth of bad luck.
â…˘. THE CAROUSEL
CW: childhood trauma
Old fashioned organ music and a million flashing lights draws you to the carousel. It's a vintage delight: huge, with ornate animals carved out of wood and lovingly hand painted. There are horses, of course, but also lions and leopards and birds and rabbits and wolves... any animal you could want! In fact, you'll see an animal that looks perfectly YOU. You just have to climb up on it for a ride.
When it stops and you step off, you will be younger. You will in fact be the same age you were when a formative event happened to you.
You're a kid at a carnival! How fun! Well, maybe you're not that young, and it's probably not very fun at all considering that now your trauma is fresh.
The only way to become your proper age again is to get on the carousel and get it to run forward. Depending on your age, you might not be able to figure any of that out, but surely one of the other Travelers can help you. You'll definitely need someone to man the carousel controls. Oh, and be careful not to knock it into overdrive...
â…Ł. COULROPHOBIA
CW: clowns, suffocation
Who can possibly resist the big top? Not you! You're ushered into the tent and you take a seat in the stands, where you have an excellent view of the huge ring before you. The excitement in the air is palpable, and even if you're the grouchy type you'll find yourself a little bit thrilled.
It's a little surprising when the lights go up to the sound of screaming guitars. Mist belches from hidden foggers, and flames shoot from near the center of the ring. The lights stutter red, blue, green. The whole thing is a lot more rock show than it is Ringling Brother's.
At any rate, even if the ringmaster looks like a reject from a trailer park metal band and the music is liable to burst some eardrums, it's still a circus. There are trained horses and riders, contortionists, and a score of talented trapeze artists. It's all sparkling and impressive and terrific fun.
The trapeze artists take their bows, clearly ready for a break. And if a break is needed at the circus? You know what happens next, don't you?
SEND IN THE CLOWNS!
The clowns spill into the ring, all sorts of them! There's Harlequin and Pierrot, Auguste and Tramp. There's Bozos and Ronalds and Clarabelles and Krustys. Hopefully no Gacys, but there's so many of them that it's hard to know for sure.
One of these clowns - the one you hate the most, of course - approaches you in the stands. With comically exaggerated movements, it leans close to you and whispers...
Well. It whispers horrible things to you, really. It recounts to you some instance in your life where you delighted in the suffering of another, a moment where you really and truly were happy that somebody else was hurt. It's not a moment to be proud of, for sure, but as the clown tells your own secret shameful joy to you, you start to laugh. Really laugh - soon you're bent over double, tears running down your face, absolutely howling with laughter.
Your stomach hurts, and you're running out of breath. Very soon you won't be able to breathe at all.
Eventually, one of your fellow travelers won't be able to resist asking you, "What's so funny?"
The only way to stop laughing is to tell them. Otherwise you're going to pass out right where you sit, a creepy clown leering over you the whole time. Maybe your fellow traveler will be nice enough to drag you out of there if that happens, because if you're left alone? Everybody knows clowns get so much scarier alone in the dark.
It wouldn't be a party without some jams.
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
You can see the lights of the Ferris wheel from the water, and by the time you pull into port you can smell popcorn, cotton candy, grease, sawdust. Music drifts on the air, interspersed with screams from the rides.
The carnival is in town.
Not just any carnival, either - the carnival. The one to end all others. Every circus you ever read about or saw in a movie, with striped tents filled with acrobats and sideshows, midway games complete with carnival barkers in straw boater hats. But it's also every shitty fair that ever rolled through your hometown, with unreliable looking men with greasy mullets smoking as they jockey the Wild Mouse, the Gravitron, the Zipper, the Corkscrew. There's a constant stream of 80s hair metal playing underneath the roar of the rollercoaster tracks, blending somehow with the traditional piping organ of the carousel.Experienced Travelers will know by now that every island has its own temple, and this one is no exception. It’s not in the carnival proper, though; if you step away from the lights of the midway and tents, you’ll notice dozens of old wooden circus trailers, arranged in a circle, growing tighter together the closer to the center you walk. The trailers are functional living places, with built in beds - sometimes one, sometimes two - and a small table and an old wood burning stove with a cooking top just big enough to boil a kettle on. There’s a toilet, but if you want a shower you’ll have to go outside and find a tent set up at the outskirts of the makeshift trailer park where there are tent showers set up, locker room style.
The clearing in the middle of the parked caravan is completely empty except for a solitary midway game: a towering high striker. It must be at least twenty feet tall, surmounted by a round, red bell. A wooden mallet is leaned against a sign next to the game that reads, predictably, TEST YOUR STRENGTH.
Step right up.
Notes:
1. Please remember to mark threads appropriately with Content Warnings when necessary.
2. These prompts are a jumping off point - how they affect your character and their development is up to you.
3. The island temple is accessible to all. The High Temple is only accessible to new characters this month - it will re-open to all others next month.
4. The Test your Strength game can be played by anyone. How well your character does is entirely up to you, but the game does not necessarily measure physical strength.
5. These residents of the island are normal humans. Killing them is possible and will affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation.
6. Any food found on the midway is safe to eat, and is consumable by non-human entities.
7. Have fun!
â…ˇ. HALL OF MIRRORS
When it comes to amusements, the Hall of Mirrors has always been second-fiddle to the Haunted House. But the line for the former was shorter, so here you are. The guy working the door has weasel eyes and is smoking. He gestures for you and whoever is behind you to enter together; "No singles. For safety."
The lights are a dull neon, cycling from deep blue to cyan to purple and back again. You find that your outstretched fingers will bump against smooth, clear glass as often as not. The mirrors reflect the maze back into itself over and over, disorienting and strange.
Some of the mirrors are convex, some concave, and as you pass them your reflection warps and bends alongside that of whoever you're stuck inside the maze with.At some point you will realise that the reflection looking back at you isn't quite right. It's still you, sure, but it's not how you really look, not on the outside.
Looking back at you from the cold glass is how you perceive yourself. Perhaps that's stronger, perhaps uglier, perhaps as a sniveling child or an ancient hag. And this reflection is going to follow you from mirror to mirror as you desperately try to find your way out.
One of you spots an exit sign, bleeding red light. Only catch is that it's behind a pane of glass. And another. And another. You could break your way through all of them, certainly, but it's not as if there's anything laying around for you to use to do so. Just yourself, which might work in action movies but tends to cause a lot of physical damage in the real world.
Above the glass someone has placed a sticker that reads, “who are you really?” in black sharpie. Answer it, and the glass will swing open. Don't, and well...
Guess you'll have several years worth of bad luck.
Notes:
1. Yes, characters can bash their way out of the maze, but it is real glass and will cut anyone who isn’t invulnerable. There is a first aid station run by extremely unreliable carneys on the premises, so hopefully they can patch themselves up enough there.
â…˘. THE CAROUSEL
CW: childhood trauma
Old fashioned organ music and a million flashing lights draws you to the carousel. It's a vintage delight: huge, with ornate animals carved out of wood and lovingly hand painted. There are horses, of course, but also lions and leopards and birds and rabbits and wolves... any animal you could want! In fact, you'll see an animal that looks perfectly YOU. You just have to climb up on it for a ride.
When it stops and you step off, you will be younger. You will in fact be the same age you were when a formative event happened to you.
You're a kid at a carnival! How fun! Well, maybe you're not that young, and it's probably not very fun at all considering that now your trauma is fresh.
The only way to become your proper age again is to get on the carousel and get it to run forward. Depending on your age, you might not be able to figure any of that out, but surely one of the other Travelers can help you. You'll definitely need someone to man the carousel controls. Oh, and be careful not to knock it into overdrive...
Notes:
1. If your character does not get back on the carousel and ride it in reverse, they will revert to their actual ages at the end of the month.
2. Please be especially mindful of content warnings with underage characters. A reminder that the game does not allow explicit sexual content with minors.
3. You do not have to regress your character to childhood - if a very formative event happened at age 20 for example, you can choose that route instead.
4. Speeding up the carousel while it is moving forward will result in, you guessed it, aging your character UP. Obviously you can ride it backwards again to fix this, or again the aging will be reversed at the end of the month.
â…Ł. COULROPHOBIA
CW: clowns, suffocation
Who can possibly resist the big top? Not you! You're ushered into the tent and you take a seat in the stands, where you have an excellent view of the huge ring before you. The excitement in the air is palpable, and even if you're the grouchy type you'll find yourself a little bit thrilled.
It's a little surprising when the lights go up to the sound of screaming guitars. Mist belches from hidden foggers, and flames shoot from near the center of the ring. The lights stutter red, blue, green. The whole thing is a lot more rock show than it is Ringling Brother's.
At any rate, even if the ringmaster looks like a reject from a trailer park metal band and the music is liable to burst some eardrums, it's still a circus. There are trained horses and riders, contortionists, and a score of talented trapeze artists. It's all sparkling and impressive and terrific fun.
The trapeze artists take their bows, clearly ready for a break. And if a break is needed at the circus? You know what happens next, don't you?
SEND IN THE CLOWNS!
The clowns spill into the ring, all sorts of them! There's Harlequin and Pierrot, Auguste and Tramp. There's Bozos and Ronalds and Clarabelles and Krustys. Hopefully no Gacys, but there's so many of them that it's hard to know for sure.
One of these clowns - the one you hate the most, of course - approaches you in the stands. With comically exaggerated movements, it leans close to you and whispers...Well. It whispers horrible things to you, really. It recounts to you some instance in your life where you delighted in the suffering of another, a moment where you really and truly were happy that somebody else was hurt. It's not a moment to be proud of, for sure, but as the clown tells your own secret shameful joy to you, you start to laugh. Really laugh - soon you're bent over double, tears running down your face, absolutely howling with laughter.
Your stomach hurts, and you're running out of breath. Very soon you won't be able to breathe at all.
Eventually, one of your fellow travelers won't be able to resist asking you, "What's so funny?"
The only way to stop laughing is to tell them. Otherwise you're going to pass out right where you sit, a creepy clown leering over you the whole time. Maybe your fellow traveler will be nice enough to drag you out of there if that happens, because if you're left alone? Everybody knows clowns get so much scarier alone in the dark.
Notes:
1. What happens if you really do get ditched with the clowns? Great question. Maybe they make you one of them. Maybe they eat you. Maybe you just wake up in the Big Top dressing room and see all the clowns smoking cigars and taking their floppy shoes off to film Clown Foot Erotica.
no subject
"Haha yeah kind of a mind fuck aint it?" Roxy says as she leads the way towards a large stand that is promising a multitude of deep fried goodies. "Where from the Midwest are ya from?"
no subject
"Kansas City, Missouri. If it's not too rude of me to ask, where are you from?" Approaching the stand, the familiar scent and sizzle of fried goods almost overwhelms her, enticing an already persistent appetite. Has it really been a few hours since she ate at the High Temple? Either way, her stomach grumbles lightly at the thought of food...
A quick glance at the menu reminds her how weird, and equally satisfying, fried foods can be. Some of it doesn't sound too bad, thankfully, but she'll let Roxy order first.
no subject
She inhales deeply as they get closer to the fried food stand, "S'not rude at all. I'm originally from San Antonio, Texas but I was recently living in La Jolla, California."
Roxy looks at the menu and then at Olivia, "Damn it all sounds good. What should we split? Fried Oreo, a pretzel and maybe a pair of churros?"
no subject
She's hoping that one of these booths secretly has some booze, but it doesn't seem like the thing a carnival would keep around. Not family-friendly enough. "I've been to Houston and Dallas, both decent areas, but I imagine it's pretty chaotic living in California. The traffic and population seem pretty wild."
"Let's get one of everything. I'm kidding, of course. Your selections all sound really good." She gives Roxy a rare smirk, hand resting on her hip patiently. "Next time we should try the cheese curds and fried chicken in a waffle, assuming we still have an appetite for fried foods after this."
no subject
"California wasn't too bad, I lived pretty far out by the beach and ocean so traffic was decent."
She laughs and nods her head enthusiastically, "Oh my god YES. If we are still hungry after this order we are totally coming back for cheese curds and fried chicken."
no subject
"California is somewhere I've looked into moving to, but I'm just not a fan of how busy or expensive it is. Maybe something further from LA is doable. My industry just keeps growing there."
Damnit. Roxy has truly done a magnificent job of getting her to relax, after only just meeting. But she's still waiting for the other shoe to drop, some sort of surprise that'll ruin the whole meeting. Until then, she takes the initiative and orders for the two of them, acquiring the grease-laden goods shortly thereafter.
"Geez, they aren't skimping on these portion sizes. I'm pretty sure the pretzel is as big as my head." She chuckles lightly, letting Roxy take the first pick of what she wants to sample first.
no subject
Roxy tilts her head to one side, looking curious. "Your industry? What's that?"
It's not surprising that Roxy has put her at ease, she's pretty good at it. Partially it's because of her open and honest nature, the other part is probably the fact that she's treating this whole situation like it's totally normal.
"Oh hell yeah!" She says with a grin and pulls off her half of the giant pretzel, taking a large bite of it.
no subject
The question causes her to frown a little, not immediately answering Roxy, in favor of using the food as a distraction. She chomps into the pretzel eagerly, chewing on it for a moment, before washing it down with some water. It gives her enough courage to finally speak up about her profession before the isles.
"I...worked in funeral sciences. Cremations. Embalming." She holds her breath nervously, knowing that most people who hear her job title tend to view her as a negative, a creepy mortician.
no subject
When Olivia finally admits her profession Roxy just nods, her expression unchanged. "Oh okay, that's kind of cool. Were you a goth in high-school? Is that how you got into it?"
no subject
Okay. The neutral expression is a good starting point, but it does little to put her at ease. In fact, the comment about being goth does cause Olivia's eyes to narrow. "I wasn't exactly the goth kid in school, more like your nerdy science girl. As for how I got into it, well, my ex-father-in-law introduced me to someone who dealt with dead bodies. It was an oddly peaceful setting..."
And she hesitates for a brief second, keeping her eyes on the treat in her hand. "Anyways, you can be honest with me about how weird it sounds. I won't take offense."
no subject
When Olivia stars to act uncomfortable about her profession Roxy can't help but laugh. Not at her, but at how quick she is to assume Roxy is normal.
"Darlin that's not weird, it sounds like you found a career that's well suited to you and your skills. So why would I find that weird?" She asks and finishes off her pretzel in one big bite.
"I barley finished highschool and then got stuck being a superhero so it's impressive to me."
no subject
"Heh. You’re something else, Roxy. Maybe if more people like you existed in the world, I wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells when speaking up." She musters up a weak laugh, trying to push the topic about her career to one side. It’s easier to have a conversation when the spotlight isn’t directly on her.
"You’re a superhero?" It’s in this particular moment where Olivia realizes that normal humans aren’t the only ones brought to this place. Sure, she can partially wrap her brain around paranormal things, but superheroes are strictly fictional back home. "Sorry, that question came off as rude. You’d be the first hero I’ve ever met in person."
no subject
"You aint never gotta walk on eggshells with me." She says and then laughs merrily when Olivia apologizes, again.
"Don't worry about it, we are way less impressive when you meet us in person. Trust me."
no subject
"You could've fooled me by how relaxed you are. I sort of pictured superheroes to be uptight and rigid in their ways." She tilts the bag full of churros to Roxy, while multitasking and wrapping off the pretzel from before.
"The anticipation will kill me if I don't ask, but, what kind of superpowers do you have?"
no subject
"Superheroes are weird. Like....we've got these powers right? And we save the world a whole bunch so you'd think we have our shit together but we're usually all emotionally stunted weirdos who couldn't even get like a temp job if we had to because no one has regular work skills."
When asked about her powers she grins and motions towards one of the midway games. "How about I give you a demonstration? S'more fun that just telling."
no subject
She can't hide her fascination and the thought of seeing Roxy's powers live, but reason wins out in the end. "You sure it's alright to show off? I have no objections to seeing your abilities, but let's try to avoid stirring up trouble."
Instead of walking away from the midway, her footsteps already guide her towards the cavalcade of games.
no subject
"This will work perfectly, here first throw is yours."
no subject
And she's already shifting the remaining food into Roxy's hands, so she can pick up one of the dirtied baseballs.
"These games are rigged..." She whispers to her companion. "Doesn't help that I'm terrible at baseball as well."
Olivia doesn't know what the proper stance is for throwing the ball, but she makes an attempt, only grazing the side of the milk bottle pyramid. It's exactly the result she predicted and isn't upset in the slightest.
no subject
"Of course they're rigged." Roxy says as she takes the food from Olivia, chomping down on another Churro. "But that's why this is extra fun, I'm about to sway the odds in our favor."
She watches as Olivia throws and misses the bottles, nodding. "Try it again." And the next time she throws Roxy uses her powers to affect the bottles, making the gravity around them suddenly heavier and the result is the entire pyramid falling down from a bare hit.
no subject
The second throw is more on the mark, but not even close to the middle of the stack, warranting a cocky smirk from the corny. However, his reaction changes once the milk bottles come crashing down, rolling off the stand with a loud thump. Olivia does her best to keep a neutral expression, shrugging her shoulders as if it was a lucky hit to downplay any cheating.
She'll have to ask Roxy about the details once they're out of the carny's earshot.
"Can I interest you in a sad plush beagle? Or would you prefer the lopsided dragon?" Olivia smirks, gesturing to the back wall full of bootleg plush animals, so Roxy can pick a prize. In the meantime, she'll also steal one of those churros before her companion eats the entire stock.
no subject
She leans in close as the disgruntled carny turns his back to get the prize and whispers to Olivia. "Keep an eye on the bottles."
Which are quickly re-stacking themselves, as if there was a helpful ghost near by that wanted to get the game set up for the next customer. When the carny turns back around everything is back to normal and Roxy gives him a wink.
"Thanks mister," She says and tugs at Olivia to follow her away from the game.
no subject
She nods, keeping her gaze tilted slightly to one angle, enough to see the bottles returning to their original position. The smile on her face is impossible to hide and once they're alone on the midway, she gives way to laughter.
"That was amazing. It looked like he was going to blow a gasket."
Any questions about the technical aspects of Roxy's powers are ignored in favor of giving her the stuffed dragon. "So what will you name your majestic beast?" With newfound freed hands, she's just going to savor the cinnamon churros, a newfound appetite after playing the carnival games. So much for holding back on shoving her face full of unhealthy foods.
no subject
Roxy takes the stuffed dragon, that is actually kind of cute in a wall eyed derpy way, and cuddles him against her chest. "He's so cuuuuuuuuuuute. Hrmmm I dunno, any suggestions?"
no subject
"Hmmm..." She's about to speak up with a large chunk of churro in her mouth but pauses to swallow first. A little bit of her casual side slips out with the given answer. "Dreepy or Goomy."
Worried that her companion might ask the meaning behind the name suggestion, she quickly shoves the last bit of the snack into her mouth. Nope. Nothing nerdy to see here!
no subject
"....Dreepy...isn't that a pokemon?"
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