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Got the morbs.
✖ VICTORIA'S SECRET
Ⅰ. ARRIVAL & THE TEMPLE
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
The ferry pulls into port in the evening, when shadows are long and gas lamps burn through a veil of mist. Dozens of other ships are docked as well, with men unloading crates and boxes from their holds. Beyond the wet wood and lapping sound of the ocean, a city looms like a charcoal smudge on a purple sky. The air is smoggy and thick, and the river that flows from the sea into the city smells foul. Walk the cobbled streets and you will find that the city is crowded and filthy, but full of merchants, pubs, and theatres. Vast wealth and extreme poverty exist side by side.
In the center of the sprawling city is a temple with towering gothic spires and huge stained glass windows depicting all manner of beings that might be gods or angels or monsters. You could look for hours and still be finding new figures plucked straight from books of myth and religion. Inside, the main chamber has a grand vaulted ceiling, and dozens of pews line the aisle up to the altar, which is oddly anticlimactic compared to the lavish surroundings: just a plain stone table with a lit oil lamp in the centre. Two hallways branch off on either side of the room: one leads to private baths and a communal kitchen, the other to monastic style chambers with thin beds. Not the most comfortable place to stay, but it’ll do in a pinch!
Alternatively you can venture into the city and find yourself some other lodging - every Traveler has been supplied with some pocket money. Just be careful that it isn’t stolen by some street urchin. Travelers can also find an era-appropriate outfit that will fit them perfectly laid in the first sleeping chamber they visit.
Ⅱ. SEANCE
CW: grief, past trauma.
Perhaps you overhear talk of it at a pub, or maybe you’re handed a small card as you push your way through the crowded city streets. Maybe you just wander in by accident. However it happens, you find yourself being ushered into the parlour of one Miss Mary Price: Spiritualist.
You and several other people are instructed to sit at a round table in a very dark and musty room. The walls are covered in thick black curtains, and maybe you’re the type to suspect that there’s someone hiding behind them somewhere. Once everyone is seated, Mary Price herself enters the room. The lights are all extinguished save for a single candle.
Mary calls out to the spirits. They communicate through a series of knocks, or the movement of a Ouija board. Someone at the table is put in contact with a deceased aunt who reveals the location of a family heirloom. Someone else is able to say goodbye to a son.
Mary Price looks at you with eyes so dark they look black, and asks, “What haunts you?”
Maybe you answer honestly. Maybe you don’t answer at all, but that doesn’t matter because the spirit tapping around the room is more than happy to narc on you and tell the whole room what or who it is that you cannot forget.
You can deny it all you like, but the spirits don’t have a reason to lie. And if you try to mess up the seance, you will spend a month being hounded by an angry poltergeist.
Ⅲ. THE RIPPER
CW: murder, gore, violence.
You’re lost at night. Maybe you were in the pub too late, or maybe you were searching for more illicit fun - weren’t there opium dens around this time? - or maybe you just weren’t keeping an eye on the time. However it happened, you’re on the streets in the dark.
It’s very foggy; you can barely see a foot in front of you. The streetlamps look like dimly burning ghosts and when the odd person passes you they are felt more than seen, just a darker shadow in a world of shifting shades.
Very suddenly you hear a scream - short, and swallowed up quickly by the fog. Still, it’s enough to get you to turn and hurry down a narrow alleyway.
Sprawled on the ground amid a lake of blood is a body. It’s immediately apparent that this person is probably beyond help - their throat has been slashed ear to ear. Your appearance was not expected, however, and you can see that you’ve startled the killer: they’re running down the alley in the opposite direction.
You have a few choices: you can chase the killer and attempt to catch them, you can try to help the victim, you can get the authorities, or you can just walk away.
What will you do?
Ⅳ. RESURRECTION MEN
CW: dead bodies, grave robbing.
You’re not entirely clear on how you agreed to this. Maybe it was a barroom bet gone wrong. Maybe you’re broke enough that you need money fast. Or maybe you want to help some wannabe medical students. However it happened, you’re in the cemetery.
And you’ve got a shovel.
Time to rob some graves! You’ve convinced yourself somehow that this isn’t morally reprehensible, and so you and your partner are just going to get down to business! What corpse should you unearth? You feel like a kid in a candy store!
The problem comes once you’ve unearthed the body because it seems terribly familiar. Which is… creepy. Creepier still when it starts talking.
Maybe it’s a family member, or an old friend. Maybe an ex partner. Whoever it is, they immediately start telling your fellow grave robber about some incident from your past that you just. Can’t. Let. Go. Of. And even if you whack it with a shovel it won’t stop. Bad corpse! BAD Corpse!
Which of course is exactly what you have to try and do if you want this chatty Cathy of a corpse to shut the hell up.
Sometimes I can still hear his voice...
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
The ferry pulls into port in the evening, when shadows are long and gas lamps burn through a veil of mist. Dozens of other ships are docked as well, with men unloading crates and boxes from their holds. Beyond the wet wood and lapping sound of the ocean, a city looms like a charcoal smudge on a purple sky. The air is smoggy and thick, and the river that flows from the sea into the city smells foul. Walk the cobbled streets and you will find that the city is crowded and filthy, but full of merchants, pubs, and theatres. Vast wealth and extreme poverty exist side by side.
In the center of the sprawling city is a temple with towering gothic spires and huge stained glass windows depicting all manner of beings that might be gods or angels or monsters. You could look for hours and still be finding new figures plucked straight from books of myth and religion. Inside, the main chamber has a grand vaulted ceiling, and dozens of pews line the aisle up to the altar, which is oddly anticlimactic compared to the lavish surroundings: just a plain stone table with a lit oil lamp in the centre. Two hallways branch off on either side of the room: one leads to private baths and a communal kitchen, the other to monastic style chambers with thin beds. Not the most comfortable place to stay, but it’ll do in a pinch!Alternatively you can venture into the city and find yourself some other lodging - every Traveler has been supplied with some pocket money. Just be careful that it isn’t stolen by some street urchin. Travelers can also find an era-appropriate outfit that will fit them perfectly laid in the first sleeping chamber they visit.
Notes:
1. Unless this is your character’s first island, the High Temple and anything you may have stored there is off-limits this month.
2. Please remember to mark threads appropriately with Content Warnings when necessary.
3. The city greatly resembles Victorian London, and the technology and general way of life is all of that era. Feel free to explore the city! These prompts are a jumping off point - how they affect your character and their development is up to you.
4. Most food is safe to eat, and is consumable by non-human entities. Most. Some of it’s going to be pretty gross or cooked improperly, so be careful.
5. The people in the city are normal humans unless otherwise indicated. Killing them is possible and will affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation.
6. Have fun!
Ⅱ. SEANCE
CW: grief, past trauma.
Perhaps you overhear talk of it at a pub, or maybe you’re handed a small card as you push your way through the crowded city streets. Maybe you just wander in by accident. However it happens, you find yourself being ushered into the parlour of one Miss Mary Price: Spiritualist.
You and several other people are instructed to sit at a round table in a very dark and musty room. The walls are covered in thick black curtains, and maybe you’re the type to suspect that there’s someone hiding behind them somewhere. Once everyone is seated, Mary Price herself enters the room. The lights are all extinguished save for a single candle.Mary calls out to the spirits. They communicate through a series of knocks, or the movement of a Ouija board. Someone at the table is put in contact with a deceased aunt who reveals the location of a family heirloom. Someone else is able to say goodbye to a son.
Mary Price looks at you with eyes so dark they look black, and asks, “What haunts you?”
Maybe you answer honestly. Maybe you don’t answer at all, but that doesn’t matter because the spirit tapping around the room is more than happy to narc on you and tell the whole room what or who it is that you cannot forget.
You can deny it all you like, but the spirits don’t have a reason to lie. And if you try to mess up the seance, you will spend a month being hounded by an angry poltergeist.
Notes:
1. The spirit can communicate through knocks, the Ouija, actually vocalising through the medium, or via ectoplasm.
2. What haunts your character does not have to be the memory of a dead person. It can be an event - maybe they’ve never gotten over losing that science fair in grade three. It is the feeling of being haunted that is important.
3. If you choose to trash the seance, the spirit will follow you for the rest of the month. It can range from annoying to actually dangerous.
Ⅲ. THE RIPPER
CW: murder, gore, violence.
You’re lost at night. Maybe you were in the pub too late, or maybe you were searching for more illicit fun - weren’t there opium dens around this time? - or maybe you just weren’t keeping an eye on the time. However it happened, you’re on the streets in the dark.
It’s very foggy; you can barely see a foot in front of you. The streetlamps look like dimly burning ghosts and when the odd person passes you they are felt more than seen, just a darker shadow in a world of shifting shades.
Very suddenly you hear a scream - short, and swallowed up quickly by the fog. Still, it’s enough to get you to turn and hurry down a narrow alleyway.
Sprawled on the ground amid a lake of blood is a body. It’s immediately apparent that this person is probably beyond help - their throat has been slashed ear to ear. Your appearance was not expected, however, and you can see that you’ve startled the killer: they’re running down the alley in the opposite direction.You have a few choices: you can chase the killer and attempt to catch them, you can try to help the victim, you can get the authorities, or you can just walk away.
What will you do?
Notes:
1. The inspiration for this prompt is Jack the Ripper but you do not have to use that case as a basis for your killer.
2. You can get as involved with this as you would like. You can have your character catch the killer in a chase, or form your very own detective squad and hunt them down that way.
3. Naturally, walking away from a potential serial killer might not be great for your Scrywatch grading!
Ⅳ. RESURRECTION MEN
CW: dead bodies, grave robbing.
You’re not entirely clear on how you agreed to this. Maybe it was a barroom bet gone wrong. Maybe you’re broke enough that you need money fast. Or maybe you want to help some wannabe medical students. However it happened, you’re in the cemetery.
And you’ve got a shovel.
Time to rob some graves! You’ve convinced yourself somehow that this isn’t morally reprehensible, and so you and your partner are just going to get down to business! What corpse should you unearth? You feel like a kid in a candy store! The problem comes once you’ve unearthed the body because it seems terribly familiar. Which is… creepy. Creepier still when it starts talking.
Maybe it’s a family member, or an old friend. Maybe an ex partner. Whoever it is, they immediately start telling your fellow grave robber about some incident from your past that you just. Can’t. Let. Go. Of. And even if you whack it with a shovel it won’t stop. Bad corpse! BAD Corpse!
Which of course is exactly what you have to try and do if you want this chatty Cathy of a corpse to shut the hell up.
Notes:
1. If you do NOT let go of this past event, the corpse will follow you the rest of the night singing Henry the Eighth I am, I am.
no subject
While Roxy explores, Quentin climbs out of the tub and ties a towel around his waist. A fluffy spa robe would be nice, he thinks. But in lieu of that he slings on a silky smoking jacket hanging on the nearby garment rack. Only the bougiest bathrooms have garment racks.
"What?" he barks back. Synching the little robe around his waist. "If you're kicking it Jeeves, I swear to God..."
When nothing else follows his paranoia kicks in. A psionic shotgun materializes in his hand but his brain reaches out for her first.
If you're fucking with me in a dusty old mansion probably chockablock with grisly stories about creepy dead little victorian girls...
cw: violence
"Quentin!! Help!" She cries and tries to scramble away.
cw: violence
A scrawny dude in a towel and a smoking jacket doesn't exactly strike fear into the heart of anyone, but he's got a lot of confidence for a guy in so few clothes.
"Who the fuck is this dude?!" It's the last question he asks before unloading a round from his gun. The crack it makes it only audible in the mind of its target. So too is the spray of searing pink buckshot that peppers their intruder. Embedding in the man some horrible sensation Quentin pulls off the top of his head— the smouldering sizzling feeling of ones skin burning in lye.
cw: violence
The man makes a gurgling sound and Roxy looks at him angrily, "Yeah but you're in the shit house now pal!"
cw: violence
"I can't stand here and listen to that," Quentin says with the dismissive gesture towards their no catatonic friend. "What did you say? THIS dude? This fucking fancy boy is your Ripper??"
His brow knits tightly together. "Do you think his butler knows that? Because Jeeves is on his way up here right now to figure out what all the commotion is and he's gonna end up like little Lord Fauntleroy here."
cw: violence
"As for the butler, your guess is as good as mine. Should we go find him and ask? Or do you want to just check his brain?"
cw: violence
I think if he knew what this Victorian Era Incel was up to, he wouldn't have been so willing to let total strangers into this house, he points out. Unless...
When the door swings open Quentin's psionic gun disappears. Instead that malleable energy reappears as a man-sized birdcage and promptly hangs the unexpected party from the ceiling.
"Hey Alfred. We need to talk about Lord LadyKiller."
cw: violence, threats towards women
"Bitch! When my master is released he'll cut your whore throat, he'll lap up your blood and gouge out your eyes..."
"...well I guess that answers that question." She says quietly and turns her face away from him and into Quentin's chest. "Knock them both out Quentin, please? I don't feel good."
cw: violence, threats towards women
Quentin pushes his hair back as he often does when he needs to think.
"Okaaaay so. Just some kind of weird... murder duo. Like... evil Batman and co-dependant Alfred or something," he babble to collect his thoughts and keep the abject intensity of his anger at bay lest he do something violent.
"You know, every time I do the nice thing. The right thing. I'm inevitably faced with human dumpster-fires like this who remind me why I'm better off being an asshole," he mutters, thought it's unclear who he's talking to as he slips out of that smoking jacket he borrowed to wrap it around Roxy. "Here I was. All Oh, golly gee Rox! We shouldn't do anything BAD to these poor unsuspecting rich people."
When his furrowed brow turns on their unconscious company it becomes very clear who this little soliloquy is for, if not just Quentin's own sanity.
"Suddenly, I don't feel very charitable. And I don't feel very much like I'd be doing anyone any harm if I didn't so much buy this house as I did just take it. The way I should have from the start."
He turns his attention back to Roxy. "I think we live here now. What do you say?"
no subject
Well it's just too much and when Quentin turns his attention back to her she bursts into tears.
"I just wanted us to have something nice!!" She sobs into her hands, "I hate this island! Ever since we got here it's just been rotten and now the one nice thing I get it gets ruined by some gross asshole who....who...."
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"Hey, hey, it's ok! It's cool! It's our house now!" he assures. "It's not ruined. We'll ruin them!" Tucking his arm around her Quentin ushers her back to the master bath where they left all their things.
"Stay here, ok? You're safe here, I swear. I've got this. Do you want me to find Wade?"
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"Nononono. Stay with me, please?" She pleads, burying her face into his chest.
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"I can like... give you calm, you know?" he says cautiously. Uncertain if that's a weird or confusing thing to offer. "Or happiness. Or like, I dunno anything you feel like feeling really. I mean I won't if you don't want that. I wouldn't just do it without permission. But if you want that. Lemme know, yeah?"
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"Thanks." She says, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I feel better."
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If it's true she's kind enough not to complain about it.
He scoffs sympathetically when she says that. Clearly working overtime to pull herself together. "You do not," he points out. "But that's ok. You don't have to. It's crazy to expect yourself to. You can be not better as long as you wanna."
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"Yeah...okay. Thank you Quentin, you're a good friend."
She lets out a sigh and runs a hand through her hair. "So...the assholes in the other room. We should probably hand them over to the authorities."
no subject
"Authorities?" his brow furrows a little. "What are they gonna do? I mean, yeah ok, we could march them in there and make them say whatever we want. But Richie Rich isn't going to do any time. If anything they'll just put him in nut house and some greedy 'family' will come out of the wood work to claim this place and all his wealth. Why shouldn't we just... expedite the process?"
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"If you think they're so deserving of mercy anyway, there's other ways to get them gone without turning off their brains completely. Maybe they both wake up and remember they've never been anything but penniless Toshers living in the workhouses."
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She takes Quentin's hand in hers and gives it a squeeze, "You mean more to me as a friend than my anger or any kind of mercy that I might have."
"That doesn't mean I want to let him get away with it though...." She muses and bites at her lower lip. "What if we just turned him in? Or got Malcolm to do it? He's been trying to find this guy and this is what he does back home. Hunt down serial killers and bring them to justice."
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He bites his tongue while she pleads her case. He can't not think about what it might do for his color-coding, but his hyperactive sense of justice makes it increasingly hard to care.
"I don't know this Malcom guy or what sway he has, but I do know I have exactly zero faith in the policing capacity of Victorian England to actually put this guy away if we served him up on a silver platter. Like, it's them v. us right now, you know? Why is anyone going to take own word over theirs??"
sorry for the slow reply, I started back up at work today.
"Yeah I guess you're right. Even if I go to them alone and say I can identify him they probably won't believe me since I'm am outsider. Fuck. Fucking asshole." She says and looks back over her shoulder at the room where the two men still are.
"Could you....I dunno, make him go confess to the murders? Is that dumb?"
don't be! i'm constantly in a state of being overworked and playing catch-up <3
What started as a potential solution Quentin easily talks himself out of.
"No. No forget it. I'm going to get rid of them. All I can promise you is I won't plainly kill them right here and call my little horde of Dickensian minions to come lug their corpses away. But I am getting rid of them. Right now."
His eyes glow with in that particular shade of pink and somewhere in the rest of the house their footsteps can be heard plodding along the hallways of this big old house until the door shuts somewhere downstairs and all goes quiet.
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"Just don't kill them okay?" She pleads and then sighs. "Not because I'd feel bad but....y'know ... I don't want you getting voted off the island for this."
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"I won't kill them," he promises.
"But hey. We do have this big creepy house now."
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