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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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How many had Deadpool eaten as they talked? He could eat cartoonishly fast, in part because he was literally a cartoon in some iterations. But also, he was a regenerator who fucked himself up pretty often. That made for a massive caloric need. In addition, nobody had ever written about it, but it kinda made sense to say that his body had adapted to his power by figuring out how to store more calories for the future, right? Like a secondary mutation thing.
"That probably accounts for why Wolvie drinks so much beer!"
(You answered your narration out loud.)
"Oops. I mean. Uh. Yeah! I could win you some prizes as thanks for you saving me from Sad Wade. What do you want to win?"
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"Something huge, pink and adorable!" She says, "Something I can cuddle or use as a pillow in case all those caravan bunks are spoken for back at the temple."
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"Something huge, pink, and adorable, got it." He rubs his chin and narrows his eyes in thought. "I think I saw a Pokeman that fits that description. And there's always the most massive cone of cotton candy ever...then you could eat your pillow if you got the munchies."
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Ironically she winds up leading him to one the most classic carnival games and probably the one that he is going to be the best at, the ol' shooting gallery. The carny behind the stand is a greasy middle aged man with practically no teeth and a straw boater hat perched on his head.
"Wanna win yer lady a prize eh? Shoot all the balloon clowns and you get the mini prize, shoot the bottles and you get the next size up, and if you can shoot all the tiny tin men in this box you get a big one." He grins lecherously, "Which is always best cuz we all know ladies like the big ones."
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(That...sounds like it could sound vaguely bad...but...huh.)
Deadpool is automatically into this game. Look at those classic cons. Look at that terrible gun. Look at that greasy motherfucker. Man, this was the shit. This was what people came to carnivals for. Ugh. So good.
"It's not the size of the prize, but the accuracy of the shot, my friend." He waggles his head side to side. "Which wins the biggest prize. So. I guess my metaphor comes back around to yours anyway. Eh, we're both gross, but she's into me so it's cool."
He takes the gun and holds it up to the light and examines it from multiple angles. His examinations attract something of a crowd, and the carny starts to look a little nervous. Most people don't handle it like they know what they're doing, let alone examine it like a pro. He hefts it a few times, getting a feeling for the weight.
"uh...you gonna shoot...or..."
"What?" Deadpool looks up as if startled, his finger twitching on the trigger while the gun is pointing up.
But it quickly becomes clear that he wasn't startled at all - just being a smartass. The bullet ricochets off the metal supports of the tent, PINGPINGPING, then rips through the guy's hat, pings off another metal support, zings through all the clowns, then PANGPANGPANG bounces around knocking the bottles down, and finally flies through all the tin men in a line before hitting something metal behind the counter, popping up, and landing in Deadpool's outstretched hand.
"Now should I be that good? Maybe? I dunno. But it sure makes for a good post. And besides, you spend enough time around Bullseye, you pick up a few things. But he would have had the bullet go several inches lower than your hat." He taps his forehead for emphasis. Annnnyways, how do you like how I handle your gun, guy? Good enough to win your prize?"
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When the gun goes off she jumps, looking up instantly to see if he shot a bird by accident but then she hears the bullet pinging off the support. And then another. And then the clowns, the bottles and finally the little tin men. There's a long moment of silence from her and the crowd that has gathered to watch him and then she cheers.
"HOLY SHIT!!!!"
The carny meanwhile just nods silently and takes down the biggest prize he has, which is of course a massive stuffed Jigglypuff, and hands it to Wade.
no subject
When they are away, he shouts, "WHO WANTS MY JIGGLY!!!"
(Um...nevermind. You know what you did.)
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"I do, I do!" She yells, laughing. "Wade, I can't believe you hit every single target back there. You're good, like really good."
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That's what he yells in response to her saying she wanted the Jiggly, and he shoves it in her direction, pushing it on her until it starts to envelop her whole upper torso. This is probably a Kirby signature move, but who cared if it was big and it was pink and it was sucking her in?
"Oh, I just know guns. That one was pretty rigged, but once you figure out how it's no biggie to adjust. Then it's just knowing how to play pool like Bullseye would."
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"I don't know who Bullseye is and I also know that was more than just knowing guns. I'm from Texas and lots of dumbasses "know" guns down there but they sure don't shoot as good as that."
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It is pretty fun to see her poking her head out of a giant mass of pink squish. She's so small and it's so big!! Well, if she'd wanted something to sleep on, she certainly had it.
But to her point that that's more than just knowing guns, he only shrugs. It is what it is!
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"I got enlisted in that weird government thing when I was seventeen and haven't been back since then, which is why you only ever really hear my accent when I'm drunk or angry."
Or when she says 'darlin' which somehow can't NOT sound southern.
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Boundaries? What are boundaries? She can feel free to slap him if she wants. Shulkie totally would. Or rather, Shulk would punch the shit out of him.
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"I dunno, never had sex that was that good before." She says, which is true. Sadly Roxy's entire dating history has been drunks, losers, cheaters and guys who put in the minimum amount of effort. In all areas.
"I guess no one has ever been up to that particular challenge."
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He shakes his head. "I mean," he gestures at her, "How the hell has this not attracted anyone up to that challenge? You're not exactly lacking in the hots department."
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Her cheeks go a little more pink and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ears, "Well I'll happily take that as a compliment. Thank you."
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Somehow, he mixes compliments in with talking entirely too much about her sex life. It's a delicate mix, and one that will probably get him in trouble eventually. But for now, he rambles on.
"It is a compliment. But also just facts. The odds are entirely against you for NOT finding someone who knows what they're doing. A big part of it is just appreciating what you've got in front of you. Worshiping at the altar that is a hot body with a cool person inside it. If you appreciate enough, you want to treat the person right, to experience every last turned on inch of them. It's not work at all. It's just what happens!"
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"I'm not faking nice, I guess I just channel all my sexual frustration into taking care of others." She says, and then adds. "That and I masturbate a lot. Even if most men let me down at least I always have me, myself and I."
She moves out from behind the giant Jigglypuff, leaning against it and looking at him playfully.
"Just what happens hrm? Well it might only happen with you sweet face, because so far I've yet to meet a guy who appreciates me or is willing to worship my altar. My boyfriend back home is usually too busy cheating on me or ignoring me to do such a thing."
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If it's not clear at this point, the guy is pushing those boundaries as hard as he can, seeing where her cutoff point is. But then, he'd been doing that before when he was trying to push her away. It had just changed to a decidedly raunchy flavor now. But so far, all he was getting was a cute little blush and more interest.
"Ugh, I'd worship at that altar all goddamn day, night, day again, and some more night. And maybe over pancakes. Or under them, with some delicious syrup." Despite having a mask on and, well, his face, somehow he still manages to waggle some eyebrows at her. "I mean, at this point it'd be mostly physical because we just met and we barely know one another, but that's okay. There's a lot of physical awesome there to appreciate. Well, that and owing you for being there for me when I really needed it, and that ain't nothin'."
But then he sighs dramatically. "Well, if I wasn't a fugly zombie creature, that is. You might be kinky as fuuuuuuck with that taking care of others while masturbating thing, but it takes a special kinda kinky to be into me. I rank a few rungs below cheating, ignoring boyfriends, if we're being honest."
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"No, no toy inside me." She says in-between cackling, "And I've never thought of using my powers that way but hey, I'll add it to my list of things to try."
Her laughter tapers off a little though when he calls himself fugly and she reaches over to put a hand over his. "Awww hey, no. That's not nice to say about yourself. You're not a zombie creature and you're so not below my list of shitty ex-boyfriends. You just proved that by actually being nice to me."
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Deadpool pauses and flails at her. "REALLY??? Man. See, here's the problem with people with powers. They all wanna be heroes or villains with those powers, right? But what about self love? What about thinking outside the box and doing things just for you? Like. Okay. Check it. MY thing is I regenerate, yeah?"
He grabs a plastic knife from a nearby food stand and stabs himself in the hand with it. It...okay it doesn't do a lot of damage. But it does a little, and that heals up.
"So the obvious thing here is to be an undying fighter on the battlefield of good and evil. And sure, I do that as a merc. But I mean, booooorrrrriiiinnnng."
He sticks a finger in the air. "BUT!! The self love side of my powers is that as long as I stay hydrated and eat enough, I can essentially have sex, like, forever. You know how some guys shoot their load and then go soft and roll over and go to sleep, because biology or something? Me, I don't even go soft again. I can just keep going and going and going, the Energizer Bunny of smut." Now he taps his chin. "Which, I guess, unless there's a fun fantasy or scifi macguffin that prevents pregnancy, makes my other superpower super impregnation. But eh. That shit is easily handwaved because nobody wants RP bebes. Well, some people do, but definitely not with me."
He shrugs. "But, alas, we arrive at me being fugly. It's not nice, but it is true. Just facts. Not self deprecating. I mean, you saw my face in the jump scare. That's all over." He pulls up his shirt. "See? So yeah. I guess this means I'm not NOT saying that I've masturbated for three days straight before just because I could. It was pretty messy though. Good thing I did it on a New York subway where nobody notices."
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"I agree! More people with powers should be thinking about how their powers effect their sex lives! I bet that a lot of villains wouldn't bother anymore if they had better and more creative sex."
She jumps a little when he suddenly stabs his hand but is intrigued by how quickly it heals, she is further intrigued when he mentions he can just keep going and going when it comes to sex. Mental note to her, ask other women on the island if the Ancient One ever supplies birth control....
"It's not so bad." She says when he pulls his shirt up, looking at the scars. "I mean like are you ever going to be a spokesperson for a skin care brand? Probably not. But I've seen worse." She tilts her head to one side and looks at him sweetly, "You're not really building a very good case against yourself Wade."
"Because so far all I've heard is that you're sweet, attentive, sex positive and funny." She says and gives him another quick kiss on the cheek. "You must have a really happy partner back home."
no subject
He can't help but make a skeptical face at her when she says he doesn't look that bad, and only grows more skeptical as she says she's seen worse.
"Worse than me? Really? Threshy after explosive anal with his sister doesn't count. He can wash that off." Oh yes. He went there. Ain't no Threshy here to pop his head for it, either!
"Don't forget psychotic and insane and hyperviolent!" He sighs. "I've had a few partners across a few iterations. Most recently in the comics I was married to a monster queen, but she left me for Dracula. I'm not cut out to be royalty. Sigh. But no...no partner back home. They never last. I either fuck them up, or they're smart enough to leave me while the leaving is good. My partners are like Doctor Who companions in that way."
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"Eeeew she left you for Dracula? That sucks, he's lame." She says and pats his hand sympathetically. "Question, since you heal so quickly does that also make you like Doctor Who and you'll just live forever?"
no subject
He shrugs like what can you do? "Yeah. And if you ask me, Dracula isn't all that hot. But yeah, as far as I know, I live forever. There've been stories of me's from waaaaaay in the future. I don't get any more sane."
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ooc: Roxy does have a Tunnel of Love top level if you don't feel like doing one yourself