polymods: (Default)
polymods ([personal profile] polymods) wrote in [community profile] polylogs2022-03-01 06:08 pm

where we're going--

POLYMYTHOS: EVENT HORIZON

EVENT HORIZON


Ⅰ. ARRIVAL
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
There has always been some confusion as to whether or not the ferry cuts through sea or sky, but this month as you glide along you will find yourself more and more convinced that it is the latter. It is nigh impossible to see where you are headed, the way forward shrouded in darkness.

At first you think the lights ahead are stars.

The ferry docks inside of a metallic bay of some kind. It’s an extension of what must be the island, although this one does not resemble any earthly land mass. It appears to be a deliberately constructed structure, contained on all sides. Maybe you’re familiar enough with technology or science fiction enough that you realise it resembles a space station more than an island.

Once you’ve disembarked from the ferry, you will find that you cannot go outside of the structure.

Inside, there are seemingly endless corridors for you to explore. The halls on the upper deck are rounded, metallic, with lights set at regular intervals. Here there are chambers roughly the length and width of a single bed, with sufficient height for a person to crawl in and sit up on the bed. There is a television screen set in the wall at the foot of the bed by the door, and sockets for electronics. That is all.


Also on this floor is a mess hall where you can get beige, mostly tasteless nutritional sludge dispensed from machines. Water and coffee are also available, likewise dispensed from machines. (There is a cookbook hidden on a shelf written by one Serak the Preparer, but no ingredients anywhere.) There are private showers and bathrooms, a small gym, and rooms clearly meant as places for people to sit and talk. There is a medical bay, although there is no staff. In fact, the whole place seems empty.

There are some rooms that are locked - these look like offices. The doors to these rooms are extremely difficult to break down, but if you have superhuman strength you could manage it. Or maybe you’re clever enough to work the electronic panels beside the doors.

Inside you will find round monitors on the walls and square tablet-like devices on desks. Attempt to work any of these and a soft, pleasant but emotionless voice will inform you that you do not have access. You can try to speak to the AI - called MUTHER - but it is supremely uncooperative. Someone very good with technology could use the tablet the old fashioned way, perhaps, to access files. You might want to be careful, though - MUTHER might decide to retaliate. Harshly.

There doesn’t seem to be a temple anywhere readily apparent.

Notes:
1. The High Temple and anything characters may have stored there is only accessible to those who are experiencing their first island outside of the TDM via a marked door. Everyone else must make do with what is available.

2. Please remember to mark threads appropriately with Content Warnings when necessary.

3. The televisions play mostly game shows. You can also find a set of controllers for it and play Pong. Just Pong.

4. MUTHER will not deliberately kill any people on the station - her programming forbids it. She is not above releasing hallucinogenic gas into the air vents, though.

5. Have fun!



Ⅱ. CONSCIENCE
CW: psychological trauma, threat of death.
It’s easy to get lost; nearly identical corridors branch off from one another. As you walk along you gradually become convinced that someone is following you. Periodically you’ll hear footsteps, a sigh, a rustle of cloth. But every time you turn around you see nothing… unless it’s one of your fellow Travelers. Or maybe you run into them because you’re so busy looking over your shoulder.

Regardless, as you walk along the lights in the corridor flicker, and when they turn back on you will find someone you know standing directly in your path. Someone who you know absolutely cannot be there.

Maybe they died. Maybe you haven’t spoken in years. Whoever they are, the feeling they inspire within you is one of intense guilt. You did something to this person, something for which you think you can never be forgiven.

The apparition might speak, or it might just watch you with silently accusing eyes. You begin to wither under its gaze, feeling weaker and weaker until you can barely stand. You just want to lay on the floor and close your eyes… maybe forever.

Your fate rests in the hands of whoever is with you or finds you. All they have to do is introduce a smidgen of doubt into your mind, a recognition that maybe it isn’t all your fault. Of course, that means you might have to tell them what you did.

Oh, dear.

Notes:
1. The severity of the offense is of course up to the player - this can be deadly serious, or played for laughs. No matter how it is played the only way to save a character from sleeping on the floor until they die from dehydration is to convince them of even the possibility that they might not be guilty. They do not have to feel completely absolved.



Ⅲ. STOWAWAY
CW: monstrous creatures.
The lower decks of the station are darker, more utilitarian looking. These are corridors that lead to rooms full of computers and machinery that keep the station running so it’s probably best to keep out of there.

There are also storage bays filled with both prosaic wooden crates and large metallic pods. Most of these are locked up tight. But not all. Investigate some of the pods and you’ll find that the floor around them is wet with some sort of milky, slimy substance that sure seems like it came from a living organism.

Maybe you should get out of here.

Before you can get good and gone to the upper decks, however, you find exactly what you probably didn’t want to unless you have a very exciting Tinder profile: an alien.

At least eight feet tall, with pale almost translucent skin, the creature has an elongated skull and a mouth that hosts two sets of jaws like a moray eel. It has a whiplike tail and spiky protrusions along its upper back. It is bipedal, and very, VERY fast.

Better hope you’ve got something to fight with! Your chances of survival are definitely greater if you work with a partner.

And you better hope there’s just the one.

Notes:
1. The aliens are extremely dangerous, but they CAN be killed. Their blood is thick and yellow but is not acidic or poison.



Ⅳ. TEMPLE
CW: potential insanity, violence.
If you wander the dark lower decks long enough, you will find yourself moving ever inward toward the very center of the station. There is a door there that is supposed to be locked, but often isn’t. It’s waiting for you, beyond that door and down a dark corridor: the station’s heart.

The room the solitary corridor opens into is round, walls sloping gently up to a domed ceiling. In the middle of the room is a machine of some kind: a series of concentric thick metal rings rotate in different directions around a sphere. The only noise it makes is the gentle swooshing of the circles as they spin out, up, around.


The air feels heavy and charged. It’s not pleasant.

Before you can leave, all of the rings line up so that they appear to radiate out from the sphere in the center. Light flares, and then in the space where the sphere once was you can see it:

Home.

It’s your homeworld, perhaps exactly as you left it, or perhaps earlier or later along in the timeline. It may be pleasant, or it may be awful, but it is undeniably the place from which you came. The place where you belong.

Stare into this portal home long enough and the compulsion to return will slip over you. You just need to jump into the glowing, trembling center of that dimensional gate.

Whoever is with you, however, realises that leaping headfirst into an unknown dimension might not be the smartest idea you’ve ever had, especially considering how ominous the whole place feels. They might be able to talk you down. Hopefully they can talk you down, because the longer you stare at the portal the more convinced you become that you MUST leap into it, and the only way to do so is to kill whoever is trying to get in your way.

If instead you turn away from the dimensional gate, the lights will flare once more before the rings resume their movement. That brief glimpse of home is gone. In its place is the sound of soft voices; people you have left behind, calling out to you with accusations of things left undone, begging to be told why you won’t come home...

These voices will follow you throughout the ship. They are not constant, but they never leave you alone for very long. They won’t be silent until you give them an answer to the question of why you have chosen to remain.

Notes:
1. If characters DO jump into the gate… They can pass through and emerge on the opposite side gravely injured or completely out of their minds. Or you may use this as a very dramatic exit from the game.

Is anybody out there listening?


Network · Logs · OOC · Memes · Plurk

quire: (daydreaming)

[personal profile] quire 2022-03-07 04:44 am (UTC)(link)
Quentin opens his eyes, not for the feeling of being kicked but for the movement that cascades through his body.

He looks a little surprised to see anyone other than a white light at the end of a tunnel, but the big mutton-chopped blond must at least mean he's not dead. Yet.

"No, but I wouldn't turn down a drink if you're offering," he says. If he has to go this way it might at least be more pleasant to be drunk.
wwrench: <lj user=proverbially> (pic#13651256)

[personal profile] wwrench 2022-03-07 04:51 am (UTC)(link)
No, Wrench shakes his head. The voice from the ScryWatch is mild and devoid of emotion, which could give the impression that the singularly-spoken word is intended as some kind of refusal. But the man goes on to clarify, Hoped you'd found something beyond the coffee. Or, perhaps more accurately, the impression of coffee that might have been garnered by some nonhuman entity.

He gazes around them, trying to locate the point of Quentin's interest, but comes up empty. Wrench taps the man with his foot again, a little less insistently but more methodically. Are you hurt?
quire: (sleepy)

[personal profile] quire 2022-03-07 06:11 am (UTC)(link)
He shakes his head, but it's a lazy sort of lolling. Almost as if he doesn't have much control of it. "No. Just coffee. And if you haven't endeavoured to try it you're not missing much."

Despite looking a little irritated to be prodded again, he looks too dizzy and disconnected to do much about it. "Uhmmm. No? Not in the usual sense. Not that I'm aware of. I am dying though. I think. Definitely feels like it. My BPM keeps dropping. I'm losing brain function. I can't feel anything below my stomach. And I just wanna sleep."
wwrench: <lj user=wwrench> (pic#13414103)

[personal profile] wwrench 2022-03-07 06:20 am (UTC)(link)
You're not fucking dying, Wrench insists. His whole expression demands that the very idea is an absurdity he's refusing to entertain, but the voice from the ScryWatch is almost laughably placid. Nevertheless, the tall man drops to his knees alongside Quentin and reaches for his wrist. He presses his fingers into the man's pulse point and pauses for several moments of stillness.

Bafflingly, his heartbeat feels thready. Wrench casts a scowl up and down the corridor and shifts until he's looming on his knees right over Quentin. Hey, he waves a hand and pats the man's cheek to draw his attention. Did you take anything? Try to keep your eyes open. What happened?
quire: (sleepy)

[personal profile] quire 2022-03-08 07:29 am (UTC)(link)
"Don't tell me I'm not dying! I know what dying feels like!" he wheezes breathlessly.

Even his sneer is a tired thing when the big fellow pats his cheek. "No I didn't take anything. Nothing happened! I saw friend who was actually more like a ghost and then my heart-rate plummeted!" he's probably using more energy than necessary just to be feisty about it but this might be what shock looks like on Quentin.
wwrench: <lj user=wwrench> (pic#13413984)

[personal profile] wwrench 2022-03-08 03:33 pm (UTC)(link)
Okay, you're dying, Wrench concedes flippantly. He still hasn't gotten used to the ScryWatch's dutiful ability to act as his own personal interpreter. If there's a means of differentiating the things he'd like to say but leave unknown, he hasn't yet discovered that switch. So the retort gets interpreted just as everything else might, even as he's rolling his eyes.

He doesn't spare much more time to matching Quentin's disdain, though. Wrench sits back on his heels and considers the evidence of what's transpired. Friend from home, or someone who's been here? he wonders. It may not matter in the immediacy, but if the ghostly apparition is someone who's never had their soul sucked into this little journey, then it seems likely this is another one of the lessons they're meant to learn something from.
quire: (sob)

[personal profile] quire 2022-03-09 04:15 am (UTC)(link)
"Home. From home..." he huffs as he tries to loosen the garment around his neck as if it might be in some way contributing to the shallowness of his breaths.

"Leggy. Blonde. Bombshell. Can't miss her."

He grabs a fistful of Wrench's shirt and wields what little strength he has to pull him nearer. "At least drag me into an air lock and shoot my corpse into space or something. Don't let me die on the floor of lower deck #453 like some amount of space dust."
wwrench: <lj user=proverbially> (pic#13651255)

[personal profile] wwrench 2022-03-09 04:25 am (UTC)(link)
The blast of air that escapes through Wrench's nose may be pure derision, but he doesn't have the heart to do more than swat at Quentin's hand as if the man's grasp is an irksome horsefly. If it looks like you're actually about to die, I'll give you the space equivalent of a Viking send-off, he promises.

Briefly, he wonders if he ought to be doing more. But Wrench has tugged on nearly every door he's encountered, and thus far he's found hardly anything beyond the immediately available. He prods a couple of fingers around, palpating Quentin's chest. The wounds he's used to attending to are far more brutal... and evident.

I didn't see her. You sure this isn't just another ferryman trick? Think for a second, why of all people would you see her?
quire: (sleepy)

[personal profile] quire 2022-03-09 05:29 am (UTC)(link)
"Thank you," he mostly mouths the words dramatically more than anything, even if that drama is lost on his companion.

His brow furrows and he wriggles lamely away from the big fellows prodding. "What are you-- stop! I'm not punctured! I'm just fading! I can feel it. Have you ever had a bad trip where you can feel reality slipping through your fingers like a handful of water? It's exactly like that!"

I don't know what this whole stupid place wants from me! I started a capitalist enterprise on the backs of so many orphans and NOTHING. This place didn't care! But I threaten the life of one Nice GuyTM and I almost get red-banded!"

Despite all his talking, he is thinking too. And evidence of that comes in the form of interrupting himself. "She hates me! I'm probably supposed to apologize but I did that! I already did that a million times! I consorted with a fiery bird god to give back everything I ever took from her!"