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🤡🤡🤡
✖ THE CARNIVAL
Ⅰ. 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.
Ⅱ. 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.
Ⅲ. 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...
Ⅳ. 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!
Ⅱ. 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.
Ⅲ. 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.
Ⅳ. 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.
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"There's stuff going on at home that got rather... complicated lately that I don't know is really the most polite thing to discuss," David offered as a non-answer answer to Kyle's question. He wasn't sure how to broach the topic of what happened to him around anyone except for Jean-Paul. It was a secret he was holding very closely.
Though something told him that no matter how closely he held it, Wade knew.
"I've known telepaths since I lost them. They aren't in my mind to unlock. The Oracle was able to give me one, though. I think maybe it had to do with my blood."
There were theories that memories could be encoded in DNA itself, but even he didn't know where to stand on those.
"Though the telepath I did know back in the last place, he compiled what he could of my sister from the minds of others and gave it to me in a way to make me feel like they were my memories. I know her face, though memory doesn't hold voices as well, not and recall them."
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Kyle nodded, stroking his chin absently. "Yeah," he said. "I mean, it makes no sense, but a magic flower doesn't make sense either, so."
He threw an arm around David's shoulders and gave him a squeeze. "I'll help you," he promised.
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There. Tact.
"Magical flowers make perfect sense. There are some in my world too. They can help you see the future. They don't look anything like the Oracle did, though."
Wow, arm around the shoulders, that's not normal. But he does smile at it. Smiles a lot.
"Jean-Paul offered to help me too. Helps that he's got some detective background. But you just radiate some of that same 'not going to accept an answer of no' energy."
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Kyle beamed right back. He's so used to physical affection with his guy friends it doesn't occur to him it might be too familiar. "I'm sure he has skills, but I'm surprisingly resourceful for a normie." A term he'd picked up from Quentin.
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Still, David went very still at the term 'normie'. What the fuck was that about?
"Don't call yourself that. No person is normal, and calling someone a 'normie' sounds a little too much like something that people back home might use as a slur," he answered, his voice a touch sharper. At least Kyle hadn't called himself 'flatscan'. David had been called that before, and he'd have actually found who taught Kyle that word and kick their ass.
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Kyle's smiled faltered at that reaction. He hadn't thought anything of it. "Dude, it's okay," he said. "Quentin calls me normie all the time. It's not serious, it doesn't bug me."
Kyle, of course, is a bit too used to accepting nicknames that he probably shouldn't.
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Damn.
"You're super smart," he offered with a smile. "But I think I could probably shock you, even if you have met other mutants than me."
Quentin calls him... Nope. David stops and offers a dark look. That was not acceptable.
"Seems Quire and I need to have a talk about that then. He knows better. Friends don't call friends normies."
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Kyle's expression went from gently amused to panicked very quickly at that. "Whoa, whoa, nononono. No, please, for seriously." he waves his hands back and forth in negation. "Do NOT go telling him not to call me normie. He'd be so annoyed at me."
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He had met so many in the ImPort world that he's realized that while mutants had a lot of shit to deal with when it came to racism, his life wasn't nearly so weird as it could be.
"Thanks for the believing I'm a good guy, though. I work really hard to be. To stay good. Because I had this weird thing growing up where I was pretty certain I might go evil genius."
But he had to be stern on this matter.
"Kyle, I'd get on his ass for calling you anything offensive. Normie is... it's a not nice thing mutants call humans. It's not the worst some trot out, but it's there anyway. And Quentin isn't exactly friendly to humans most of the time, so yeah, I kinda want to break his nose for it. Not that I could."
Stupid fucking telekinetics.
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His eyebrows raised at that. "You? No offense but you don't seem the type. Unless it was like, one of those 'I am smarter than everyone else so I will take over the world for YOUR OWN GOOD' type situations."
Kyle scowled. "Not that I'd LET you," he said. "For one thing, I am perfectly capable of beating his ass myself. For another thing, he's not serious, he's just ripping on me. I'm not upset about it, so why are you?"
no subject
But damn he was wincing at how on the nose Kyle was about the whole 'what type of super villain David would have been' question. He was not mentioning the nukes part of it at all. He'd comment but, well, there was a more important question to address.
"I... There was a thing that happened in our world, it stripped a lot of mutants from what we were. Some of us died. I woke up one morning and suddenly I didn't belong. I was baseline, I was a flat-scan, a normie. I got a lot of grief for it. A lot of bile. A lot of people like Quire that we went to school with throwing that word in my face because they knew it hurt. That is why I care. It's like... It's like if some British person made monkey jokes around me. It gets my blood up."
no subject
But then there was this other thing, and he felt a little guilty that David would feel bad at all. But on the other hand... "Dude, if ANYBODY made jokes like that around you I'd help you kick their ass," he said. "But like... It's not directed at you, okay? I won't call myself a normie around you, I promise, because now I know why it bugs you. But you are one hundred and twenty percent not going to go play knight in shining armour trying to protect my honour or something, okay? I'm not bothered by it, it's kinda our thing. He calls me a normie, and I call him an insufferable image obsessed twat."
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"I'm not out to protect your honor, Kyle," David answered, rolling his eyes. Dude clearly could take care of himself. "My parents are human. My sister that I can't even remember is human. Some of my best friends are human. I'm offended because of how it hurt me, and I'm pissed off that people think that just because other people are racist toward us, we should do it right back. Your honor has nothing to do with it."
Besides, he has to crack a smile. "He is an insufferable image obsessed twat. Always has been. He's asked to have his DNA changed to make his hair that color. Dude so beyond obsessed with his image. Like, I've heard horror stories."
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Kyle started giggling. "I know! And no body hair anywhere!"
...Kyle, how would you know that.
no subject
He's been part of too many minority and 'not family friendly' groups to not be angry at this sort of behavior.
Still, he has to pause. Because David knew that detail too because that was special order as well. Josh had talked about how it sucked going in to do that job.
"And you've, what, been showering with him? Because I know how I know that he's just this side of a naked mole rat, but I don't know why you know that."
no subject
Kyle's face went pink, but he scowled. "He's not a naked mole rat," he protested. "I mean, it's hilarious that he cared enough to ask someone to do that, but it's not like he looks bad, jeez." Then he shrugged and suddenly found his stuffed bee VERY interesting.
no subject
No. Fucking. Way.
"You call it hilarious that he cared to ask. I'm the one that gets to listen to Josh Foley bitch over having to fiddle around with Quentin's genetics. So I've got to know, are you sleeping with him, or is it just a crush on one of the largest superior assholes mutant kind has turned out?"
One of was an important distinction. There were plenty of other superior asshole mutants, but Quire had carried a fragment of the Phoenix Force that that ALWAYS bumped someone up several slots. Not to mention being an Omega level.
no subject
"...he's not THAT much of an asshole," Kyle muttered before he covered his face with his hands.
"And I don't see why it matters which!"
no subject
He pat Kyle on the shoulder and then shook his head.
"And I am going to be triple certain never to touch your mind because the relief of Quire being a telepath has always been that I never needed to know what he liked in bed, and I imagine you'll have a bit more hands-on knowledge of it and I really don't want to carry that around."
no subject
For all of a minute, before getting defensive.
"He's not that bad!" Kyle protested. "I mean, okay. He's kind of a dick, but like..." He had a hard time coming up with any solid examples of Quire NOT being insufferable. This was, he realised uncomfortably, an awful lot like explaining why he hung out with Eric Cartman most of his life.
"He's never done anything atrocious," he settled on. He paused, then asked, "Uhm, do all telepaths, like... they can fuck you in the BRAIN, do they all do that? Besides Carter, I mean. I don't know if he even knows he can."
no subject
"Staged a coup at our high school multiple times, which actually ultimately got the girl he liked killed, started an international conflict between the mutant nation of Utopia and anti-mutant racists, there was one time I think he took over all of our minds on Utopia too, there was the thing with the company that basically wanted to take him on but he took the fragment of the Phoenix powers, I've heard rumors of mind prisons..."
Kyle, Quire might be better now, but he's absolutely a bad person in his past. That he's doing better now seems to relate to Krakoa and Logan more than anything. David hoped it held true.
"I've spent years knowing he was a bad person. He's started to change, I admit that, but I reserve the right to worry over someone as cool as you going way below your level to be interested in him. But, seriously, after this conversation I'm never going to be negative on it again. I swear it. I've seen far worse shit than him getting nice. And he is, getting nicer. I hope you help with that."
Oh god, the telepath question. David sighed.
"Once, to teach me why they felt like it was wrong for me to access the full of my powers, a telepath and a more esoteric form of telepath decided to lock my mind in an illusion of what might happen with my powers. I nuked China, Kyle. Yes, telepaths can all fuck with the minds of people around them that aren't telepaths or are blessed with really good mental shields. Most of them do mess with minds because it's a lot harder to develop respect for privacy for them because it feels like things are being BROADCAST out there, like our minds are shouting at the void to them. Some aren't prone to it. I've known some very respectful telepaths. But even the most self-controlled one I know, Rachel Summers, has chosen to awkwardly pop into my mind at times."
no subject
Okay, a lot.
"Your school sounded kinda totally shit to start with," he muttered, folding his arms across his chest. But then he sighed.
"He's nice to me," he said, hating how pathetic a defense that was. And it wasn't entirely true, either. "Sorta. Okay, not NICE, but... anyway he's not below my level, don't say that, that's awful. He said you guys would act like this, you know."
He listened intently to David, and by the end he was shaking his head. "No, no, I meant... not fuck WITH. I meant, uh. You know." He was blushing again.
"And I remember you explaining how they messed you up. Which seems like further proof of you guys having really shitty teachers, honestly."
no subject
But he reached out and touched Kyle's arm again.
"Trust me when I say the fact that he's good to you is what matters, not my opinions," David said, because he meant it, not because he wanted to spite Quentin. Geez, the guy really knew how to piss people off without even being there.
But then he was pausing. And pulling back to groan and bury his face in his hands.
"Please do not ask me questions about telepathic sex. I hate remembering that telepathic sex is a thing. I have whole fucking storehouses of knowledge about telepathic sex and I really wish I didn't and I'm glad it's satisfying to you but now I want to go find a hole to die in, just a little."
He doesn't want to talk about how his teachers messed him up. Or about how the world messed his teachers up first. Instead he has to come up with some defense.
"We were a people under attack, Kyle. We couldn't get normal teachers with experience and training and all of that. We had to do our best to protect ourselves, and so that meant that sometimes the people that taught us weren't the greatest at it. But they cared about us. If there is one thing you have to believe about people back home, it's that they cared about us kids. Except for maybe Scott, because he cared but he was also a complicated asshole. Just... Quentin for all I understand comes from a complicated background, and it shaped him, like complicated backgrounds shape all of us. And I want to see the present shape him to be better. Hell, my friend Kate says he's not all that bad. But sometimes, you know, history."
no subject
"Yeah. Okay, yeah, no, that's a point. Sorry. And I actually DO care about your opinion, it's just..."
He fell quiet again, thinking. For all his faults, he wasn't a stupid man. "I can understand how your school wound up that way," he said slowly. "And I don't think everyone who taught you was a bad person. Hell, I've had the WORST person as a teacher, pretty sure. But that still doesn't mean they didn't do you wrong. Although that's not my place to say much about, I guess. I just know what I've heard from you, and Q, and Carter. So." He shrugged.
He pushed his mop of curls back. "...uhm, is there something bad about telepathic sex I should know about?"
no subject
"Sometimes you care about a person's opinion, but it doesn't mirror your own and that can be stressful," David provided for him. "As for Carter... he wasn't there quite the same way we were. And if you call him Q I think he's about to snap his fingers and put me into Robin Hood just to get my captain's attention."
Which wasn't likely, but it was possible the guy could make him THINK it was happening, so he didn't like hte thought.
"No. It's just... I know way too much about it for someone who will never be having any."
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