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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.
2
Sorry for making you lead the way...
[When Connor suddenly stops, she follows suit, wondering if he's simply gotten lost and is looking for the right exit. After a few minutes, she looks over and sees him blankly staring into one of the mirrors. Something doesn't feel right all of a sudden.]
Are you okay? Do you need me to take over in front for a bit?
no subject
Don't worry about it. My name is Connor, by the way.
[Then they continue on deeper into the maze, and maybe his programming isn't as up to the task of finding their way out as he'd anticipated. When he's caught like a deer in headlights by the sight of his own reflection, he can feel his LED burning scarlet in his temple, almost like a physical pain as he reaches out to brush his fingertips over the glass.]
Hmmm?
[He's clearly distracted, but he forces himself to focus on Olivia's question, blinking suddenly to break the hold the mirror has over him. Smiling weakly at her, he gestures for her to lead the way.]
I'm okay. Yeah. Yeah, that might be a better idea.
[His reflection grips him, and it'll be good to leave it and the memories associated with that version of him behind. Except that it's still there in the next mirror, and the next, following him like a lost puppy. An emotionless, unforgiving puppy.]
no subject
[She takes the offered handshake easily, managing a weak smile the entire time. She's spotted the LED light affixed to Connor's brow but thinks not much of it. Having recently met people with superpowers, she's starting to suspect now all things are normal or as they appear.]
[Instead of talking, she's content with silently walking among the carefully constructed maze, occasionally reaching out with one hand to run her fingertips against the glass. The panels are carefully affixed to the ceiling or the floor to intentionally trip up any observant people, but the lights bother her more than anything else. That is until Connor turns to face her, his smile leaving her at a complete loss.]
It's alright to ask for help. Here, let's trade places for now and if you feel better after a few minutes, we can swap back.
[Carefully she steps ahead of Connor, offering him a reassuring now of her head, before resuming the task of traveling the maze. Keeping both hands outstretched, she's using her fingers to find noticeable gaps in the maze since her eyes will only try to deceive her. However, she's noticing that there's no clear way to move forward easily...]
They didn't make this maze very easy.
no subject
[His smile is genuine, and for now the LED is a placid blue as they exchange pleasantries. She's definitely right about nothing being as it seems here, and Connor should have remembered that before being so dismissive of the mirrors.
He's mostly wanting to go through the maze to see if it's possible to confuse his programming with illusions and trickery. He wouldn't have thought so; he was overly confident in fact that it was impossible. But this place seems to know all their weaknesses and just which buttons to push. To be so thoroughly shaken and lost so soon after entering unsettles him more than he cares to admit.
He nods at her, looking stricken and a lot younger now that his cocky façade has fallen away, his LED still swirling red.]
Are you sure you don't mind?
[His voice is small but almost hopeful that she meant what she said, and she'll take the lead now. Seeing the reflection of who he could have been staring back at him from all sides is damning, and it makes him feel anxious and insecure. It's not who he is anymore- right?]
This was a bad idea. I don't know why I thought differently. I didn't think I'd have any problems finding my way through it, but I was wrong. I'm sorry, I thought it would be easier than this.
[He wants to close his eyes and use his proximity sensors to navigate what's left of the labyrinth of mirrors, but somehow he doesn't think that will work. He doesn't think it will be allowed to work.]
no subject
[She shrugs her shoulders for a moment, focusing on the task at hand instead of the mysteries surrounding the island. All of her attention is on trying to find the trick to the maze, as it's painfully clear that walking from start to finish isn't possible. Her footsteps slow when Connor addresses her, pausing to make sure they haven't gotten separated.]
Don't worry about it. If we put our heads together, we can figure out the solution to this puzzle in due time. They can't keep up trapped in here forever, after all.
[Though she's not making a move for the moment, looking around at their surroundings carefully, trying to catch something that might be out of place. Among the glowing lights, something does catch her attention on the far side of the room. A red and white sign hanging above a narrow doorframe. The exit.]
It's okay, Connor. You don't have to apologize for something that's out of your control. Instead of focusing on what went wrong, channel that into looking for a solution.
[She points to the exit sign. In the process of turning to nod reassuringly to Connor, she catches a glimpse of movement within the mirror's reflection. Huh. It must be a trick of the light.]
Looks like we've got one hint to work with right there.
no subject
[But his easy smiles become more infrequent the more disturbed he becomes. Sometimes he wishes he still had the cool, unruffled demeanor of the Deviant Hunter to fall back on- but then his gaze finds the mirrors again, and he squeezes his eyes shut, internally berating himself for even thinking such a thing. The Deviant Hunter was a killer. It was dangerous, made worse without emotions to temper its logic. He doesn't ever want to be like that again. His voice is shaky and he hates it, because he was trying for some humor.]
No, but they can make it feel like forever.
[He was programmed to be a detective apart from the Deviant Hunter, so why can't he seem to focus on the details that will help them escape? Why is he so paralyzed by his own reflection that he can barely think straight?]
Are you a therapist? You sort of sound like a therapist. That's not a bad thing, I'm not trying to be off-putting. If you're not one already, you'd make a good therapist.
[He's trying, he's really trying hard to kick his programming in the ass and get his processor functioning properly again. It's hard when the spectre of his worst possible self stares back at him coldly from every surface.]
I take it back. You'd make a good detective.
[He stares at the sign, but also notices for the first time the words written in black sharpie above one of his images- Who are you really? It's reminiscent of the question the Lieutenant asked him on a cold night near the Ambassador Bridge, and his mind flashes back to his answer all those months ago:
I'm whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant. Your partner... Your buddy to drink with... Or just a machine... Designed to accomplish a task.
For some reason, that gives him the mental fortitude to do what needs to be done. He draws himself up, staring his reflection in the eyes. Yes, this is what he could have been, had he made different choices. But it's not who he is, because he made better choices. Who is he really? He's Connor. A machine. An RK800 prototype android, who threw off the fetters of Cyberlife's control and became a person, twice. The Deviant Hunter is in his past, but it's not Connor's present and certainly not his future. With renewed determination, he sets to figuring out how to get them the hell out of there.
If he saw the same movement that gave Olivia pause, he doesn't say anything.]
no subject
[The hesitation in his voice is not missed, but she chalks it up to being in a heavily distorted maze while looked easy on paper. She’s not going to wound Connor’s pride any further by calling out his overconfident attitude from before, simply listening to his words carefully and with empathy.]
Not quite a therapist, but I did have to take a lot of psychology courses in college. My line of work requires being attentive to details and empathetic towards others. I…
[She pauses to stare at her reflection in one of the mirrors, unfamiliar especially seeing her provided wardrobe for the island. Eyes narrow at Connor’s bold statement, which causes her tone of voice to become serious and cold.]
I would not do well in the criminal justice field. Personal reasons.
[The sticky note now has her attention, eyebrows furrowing.] Well, that’s cryptic and kind of personal. Could it be a metaphor of sorts?
[She gives Connor a curious look.] What do you think?
no subject
[When he opens his eyes again, he keeps them lowered to avoid seeing his reflection again, opting instead to focus on Camilla's shoes for a moment before lifting his eyes to her face.]
What was it that you did for a living?
[It still sounds like it could be related to law enforcement, the way she describes it. Ouch though, he distinctly dislikes the sudden coldness of her tone. Personal reasons. Okay. He can accept that she doesn't want to talk about it.]
Alright, I'm sorry. I won't bring it up again.
[He raises his arms placatingly, with an uneasy smile, especially when she re-directs his attention back to the sticky note. Remembering his sudden resolve, he stares down the note.]
I don't think so. I think it means exactly what it says.
[He addresses the note unblinkingly.]
My name is Connor. I was once the android sent by Cyberlife, tasked with the mission to hunt down and destroy deviant members of my kind. But I broke the bonds of my programming and freed myself from their chains. I am no longer owned or controlled by Cyberlife. I am my own person, and I choose who I am and who I want to be. I am Connor. I am Deviant. I am alive.
[He stops speaking, but he doesn't dare take a breath, or look at Olivia, or even glance at the mirrors. He keeps his eyes on the note, waiting. For...something.]