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Entry tags:
- ! event log,
- a discovery of witches: kit marlowe,
- dc: harley quinn,
- detroit: become human: chloe,
- detroit: become human: connor,
- dragon age: anders,
- final fantasy: sephiroth,
- locked tomb: harrowhark nonagesimus,
- marvel: carter ghazikhanian,
- marvel: jennifer walters,
- marvel: loki odinson,
- marvel: wade wilson,
- my hero academia: takami keigo,
- oc: elenore evans,
- oc: saxsice king,
- penny dreadful: victor frankenstein,
- south park: kyle broflovski,
- uncharted: elena fisher,
- uncharted: nathan drake,
- uncharted: rafe adler,
- uncharted: samuel drake
Destination: Carcosa
✖ Carcosa
Ⅰ. THE TEMPLE
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
The island's harbour is full of other ships, although not a single one of them seems to actually have a human being aboard. (You could certainly try to steal one, but doing so is an exercise in futility - you will find that even if you set off into the ocean you will wind up right back in the harbour again after spending a few hours lost in the fog.) Beyond the harbour is a glittering city of glass and gold. Curving arches and sharp geometric lines are the hallmarks of the architecture - an art deco paradise that whispers of decadence and hope for the future.
The people who crowd the streets wear suits and hats, drop-waist dresses and furs. Their faces are all blank smiles. It's the roaring twenties, darling, why do you look so concerned?
If it is your first experience of the Endless Isles, you have access to the High Temple. Should you wish, you may also seek out the island's own temple as well, which is located inside the city, in a district mostly forgotten by the residents. Don’t worry - your feet will carry you there.
The building is not large, and it is old and neglected. It has a domed ceiling, with panels of glass crisscrossed with metal painted gold curving upward. Whatever fine pattern may have formed there is lost to time; the glass at the centerpoint of the dome is gone, letting in the smell of the sea.
There are rooms equipped with beds spreading out like a spiderweb from the middle of the building. The temple proper is of course in the exact center, below the broken dome. In the middle of this circular room you will find dead branches gathered together to make a vaguely humanoid shape. This crude figure has been haphazardly painted yellow. A slab of concrete sits in front of it. There is not much to explore here; it is very quiet.
Either temple is a good place to simply rest, or meet some of your fellow Travelers. The High Temple of course has the Temple Chef and its usual Guardians, Flock, and Lantern.
The Island Temple has its own Guardians, which are small, pale humanoids with perfectly blank faces and small antlers like young deer. They will leave you alone unless you try to meddle with the central room. Doing so will result in one of them approaching you, and you will find yourself falling unconscious on the floor.
Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE
Through happenstance, you find yourself in an enormous ballroom. Low couches are dotted everywhere, and a live band plays somewhere at the end of the massive space. A long bar takes up one side of the room, bottles sparkling under the light cast from the many cut-glass chandeliers hanging overhead. Champagne flows freely, and the scent of gin pervades the air.
All of the attendees are wearing masks.
You're dressed for the occasion, of course - you will find yourself wearing something reminiscent of 1920s America, with a small yellow sigil of some sort pinned to your breast. Ask any of the guests about it and they will tell you, "ah, it's a secret." You too, of course, are wearing a mask. You did not pick this mask, but if you look in the mirror hung over the bar you will find that it nonetheless hints at some aspect of your personality.
Which would be all well and good, except that you can't take the bloody thing off.
Moving around the ballroom, you will discover that a few other people also have the yellow sigil pinned to their clothing. It probably shouldn't surprise you that these people are all other Travelers, equally unable to take their mask off.
No, you can't unmask until you share something with your new-found friend: a secret. A REAL one, the sort you'd never speak aloud.
Of course, you can choose not to share. If you choose that route, however, you'll find that the mask is fusing with your skin. Leave it on past midnight when the cries of "UNMASK! UNMASK!" begin, and it will simply become your new face for the duration of the month.
Ⅲ. THE PLAY
Maybe parties aren't your style. No fear, there's plenty more to do and see in such a wondrous city. There's a theatre - the Meliora Grand as a matter of fact - and perhaps you're just the sort of person who would like to take in the arts.
The theatre has plush seats, and fabulous electric sconces lining the wall. Once you take your seat you'll find yourself looking at the stage, where a blood-red velvet curtain hangs. The theatre doesn't seem to fill up - indeed, it really seems that there's only you and one or two other people there. Curious.
The lights go down and the curtain is drawn open, revealing... well. Not much.
There are two chairs on the stage, a table between them. On the table lays a pallid face: a mask. Just a mask. Why not go on up and take a closer look?
Should you choose to touch the mask, you will feel a deep urge to speak to whoever else is in the theatre. You will, in fact, feel the desire to act out some sort of emotional trauma with them. Perhaps they suddenly look like your mother, your father, a lover who left you. Why don't you tell them how you really feel?
Naturally, you can both just sit in awkward silence instead. You'll be waiting until the morning to be let out, if that's the case.
Ⅳ. LOST CARCOSA
CW: the undead.
You find yourself walking along the beach at night. Along the shore the cloud-waves break, and black stars rise above you.
You can't quite pinpoint when you realise you are no longer alone. Maybe there is only one other person on the beach with you, or perhaps a few; you move as one down the expanse of sand until you realise there is something laying up ahead of you.
There is a heap of yellow cloth there, dry and tattered with age. It smells faintly of spices. Nestled among it is a jewel-encrusted human skull. Its empty sockets compel you to sit down in the cool, bone-white sand, to sit and speak to those around you about loss.
Everyone has lost something important to them. A person, a thing, a place, an aspect of the self. Something that's gone and you're never getting back. The skull grins endlessly, endlessly, encouraging you to speak about something you may not have laid to rest.
You can resist this compulsion. Maybe you were never good at sharing. Refuse the skull's silent request and you may continue down along the beach, or perhaps head back the way you came. As you walk, however, you will notice that there is a fog rolling in. It comes in off the sea/sky, obscuring the beach until you can barely see.
It's a terribly handy cover for the corpses that are shambling out of the surf. Wet, bloated, with eyes that glow a dim gold, they head for you silently. They wish to drag you back with them, into the depths. Better hope you can outrun or outfight them.
Bonus: What's that? You want a Carcosa playlist? You've got it, babes!
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
The island's harbour is full of other ships, although not a single one of them seems to actually have a human being aboard. (You could certainly try to steal one, but doing so is an exercise in futility - you will find that even if you set off into the ocean you will wind up right back in the harbour again after spending a few hours lost in the fog.) Beyond the harbour is a glittering city of glass and gold. Curving arches and sharp geometric lines are the hallmarks of the architecture - an art deco paradise that whispers of decadence and hope for the future.
The people who crowd the streets wear suits and hats, drop-waist dresses and furs. Their faces are all blank smiles. It's the roaring twenties, darling, why do you look so concerned?
If it is your first experience of the Endless Isles, you have access to the High Temple. Should you wish, you may also seek out the island's own temple as well, which is located inside the city, in a district mostly forgotten by the residents. Don’t worry - your feet will carry you there.
The building is not large, and it is old and neglected. It has a domed ceiling, with panels of glass crisscrossed with metal painted gold curving upward. Whatever fine pattern may have formed there is lost to time; the glass at the centerpoint of the dome is gone, letting in the smell of the sea. There are rooms equipped with beds spreading out like a spiderweb from the middle of the building. The temple proper is of course in the exact center, below the broken dome. In the middle of this circular room you will find dead branches gathered together to make a vaguely humanoid shape. This crude figure has been haphazardly painted yellow. A slab of concrete sits in front of it. There is not much to explore here; it is very quiet.
Either temple is a good place to simply rest, or meet some of your fellow Travelers. The High Temple of course has the Temple Chef and its usual Guardians, Flock, and Lantern.
The Island Temple has its own Guardians, which are small, pale humanoids with perfectly blank faces and small antlers like young deer. They will leave you alone unless you try to meddle with the central room. Doing so will result in one of them approaching you, and you will find yourself falling unconscious on the floor.
Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE
Through happenstance, you find yourself in an enormous ballroom. Low couches are dotted everywhere, and a live band plays somewhere at the end of the massive space. A long bar takes up one side of the room, bottles sparkling under the light cast from the many cut-glass chandeliers hanging overhead. Champagne flows freely, and the scent of gin pervades the air.
All of the attendees are wearing masks.You're dressed for the occasion, of course - you will find yourself wearing something reminiscent of 1920s America, with a small yellow sigil of some sort pinned to your breast. Ask any of the guests about it and they will tell you, "ah, it's a secret." You too, of course, are wearing a mask. You did not pick this mask, but if you look in the mirror hung over the bar you will find that it nonetheless hints at some aspect of your personality.
Which would be all well and good, except that you can't take the bloody thing off.
Moving around the ballroom, you will discover that a few other people also have the yellow sigil pinned to their clothing. It probably shouldn't surprise you that these people are all other Travelers, equally unable to take their mask off.
No, you can't unmask until you share something with your new-found friend: a secret. A REAL one, the sort you'd never speak aloud.
Of course, you can choose not to share. If you choose that route, however, you'll find that the mask is fusing with your skin. Leave it on past midnight when the cries of "UNMASK! UNMASK!" begin, and it will simply become your new face for the duration of the month.
Ⅲ. THE PLAY
Maybe parties aren't your style. No fear, there's plenty more to do and see in such a wondrous city. There's a theatre - the Meliora Grand as a matter of fact - and perhaps you're just the sort of person who would like to take in the arts.
The theatre has plush seats, and fabulous electric sconces lining the wall. Once you take your seat you'll find yourself looking at the stage, where a blood-red velvet curtain hangs. The theatre doesn't seem to fill up - indeed, it really seems that there's only you and one or two other people there. Curious.
The lights go down and the curtain is drawn open, revealing... well. Not much.
There are two chairs on the stage, a table between them. On the table lays a pallid face: a mask. Just a mask. Why not go on up and take a closer look?
Should you choose to touch the mask, you will feel a deep urge to speak to whoever else is in the theatre. You will, in fact, feel the desire to act out some sort of emotional trauma with them. Perhaps they suddenly look like your mother, your father, a lover who left you. Why don't you tell them how you really feel?
Naturally, you can both just sit in awkward silence instead. You'll be waiting until the morning to be let out, if that's the case.
Ⅳ. LOST CARCOSA
CW: the undead.
You find yourself walking along the beach at night. Along the shore the cloud-waves break, and black stars rise above you.
You can't quite pinpoint when you realise you are no longer alone. Maybe there is only one other person on the beach with you, or perhaps a few; you move as one down the expanse of sand until you realise there is something laying up ahead of you.
There is a heap of yellow cloth there, dry and tattered with age. It smells faintly of spices. Nestled among it is a jewel-encrusted human skull. Its empty sockets compel you to sit down in the cool, bone-white sand, to sit and speak to those around you about loss.Everyone has lost something important to them. A person, a thing, a place, an aspect of the self. Something that's gone and you're never getting back. The skull grins endlessly, endlessly, encouraging you to speak about something you may not have laid to rest.
You can resist this compulsion. Maybe you were never good at sharing. Refuse the skull's silent request and you may continue down along the beach, or perhaps head back the way you came. As you walk, however, you will notice that there is a fog rolling in. It comes in off the sea/sky, obscuring the beach until you can barely see.
It's a terribly handy cover for the corpses that are shambling out of the surf. Wet, bloated, with eyes that glow a dim gold, they head for you silently. They wish to drag you back with them, into the depths. Better hope you can outrun or outfight them.
no subject
But he's gone. "--leave. Fuck."
Kyle looks morosely at the skull. "It's hard to find anybody who sticks around," he tells it. "You know that? When I was little, it was like your friends stuck by you no matter how crazy shit got. But since I've grown up? It's not like that. People just come and go."
He sighs, scrubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.
"I miss having friends," he mutters.
no subject
He can hear Deadpool shouting as he runs up, "HEY!!! You did it! Looks like you told Death something she wanted to hear! Let's get the fuck out of here!!!"
As he runs up, Kyle can see that Deadpool has a zombie hanging from his ass from where it chomped down and wouldn't let go. "Look, it's a lot harder than it looks to only have one arm. I couldn't fend this one off as I was stabinating another one. But we should go. Somehow, there's a lot more of them than earlier. It's like they're just multiplying on their own, appearing out of thin air. Maybe it's all the buried shit everyone has getting unearthed by this sneaky devil here."
Interestingly, do some of the zombies in the mist resemble undead versions of Kyle's friends, the ones who have gone? No...couldn't be. They aren't dead, and buried truths don't look like zombies. Do they?
"Not sure if people telling her shit is smart or not, but at least the telling gets us out of here? C'mon, CT, let's get moving!!!" And he grabs his new bud and starts dragging him towards the parting of the mist.
no subject
Kyle goes along, stopping only to grab the legs of the zombie biting Wade's asscheek. He yanks, and predictably the legs tear off and send Kyle sprawling in the sand. "Oh for fuckssake," he mutters. He digs in the sand to find a piece of driftwood and then uses that as best as he can to cram between the zombie's teeth. This means he does jab Wade in the ass a few times, but it does get the zombie to let go.
"Okay, okay, come on," he agrees, running alongside Deadpool again. He doesn't stop until they reach the buildings that line the harbour of the island.
"What a night," he says, slowing to a stop.
no subject
As Kyle gets to work with the driftwood, he eeps and dances, and then the zombie breaks free with a new set of wooden dentures replacing the lost teeth.
"Oh hey, you really do give good wood, " and then he too is running. Dick jokes, indeed.
When it seems they are safe, he pauses with Kyle and looks back over the beach. From this angle, it looks like a clear night with no zombies, mists, or sexy skulls on the beach.
"You can say that again. I'm glad I was recently king of the monsters so the weird shit doesn't phase me as much. But this definitely isn't your usual comic book."
no subject
The beach looks downright pristine. It's eerie; there should be evidence of all they've experienced, but there simply is not. It's as if the past has bene swallowed whole. But it's waiting, underneath. Oh yes.
"King of the monsters? Like Godzilla?" He decides not to tell Ryan Reynolds that they're not in a comic book. He seems a little unstable.
no subject
He looks out over the beach. It looks so perfect for a moonlit walk with gently crashing waves. That was, after all, what had drawn him out there. One wouldn't think it of him, but Wade very much enjoyed solitude sometimes. All the time, actually. But that was another of those secrets he didn't tell at the masquerade.
"What? Oh. Kind of. I've got a few kaiju. Also a wolfman, a blob monster, a kraken thing, a thing that teleports you around by barfing you out...it's a whole medley of the who's who of monsters, and the who isn't, and the who you never thought of. Or...I had them. In a different life."
A pause. "Is it just me, or do you have the perverse urge to go back to the beach and see if it's still a shit show that we just can't see from here?"
no subject
Kyle looks back at the beach. "...it's not just you," he admits. Then he looks at Wade, scowling. "But we're NOT doing that!" he says. "Nope, no how, no way. We just escaped near death and we are not - NOT - marching back to test our luck. I am through with stupid shenanigans."
no subject
"Okay FINE. We'll take the smart way out this time, but only because we're buds now and I respect your opinions and shit. But I don't think you're done with stupid shenanigans. I am pretty sure these are the Stupid Shenanigan Isles."
no subject
"It's totally possible we'll avoid further stupidity by just being rational and cautious," Kyle says. He honestly believes he is both of those things.
"Uh, I'm Kyle Broflovski. Thanks again for not letting me get eaten."
no subject
"HEY!!! I see you over there ganging up on me, Kyle narration and parenthesis!!! My monster buds LOVED me!!!"
(If you define love loosely.)
"Hmph. Well, hi Kyle! I think I've seen a cartoon documentary of your childhood exploits." He absolutely has, but it's just polite to put it in the "think" framing. "You can be as rational and cautious as you want, but I know islands that are meant to fuck with me when I see them. They want me to learn things. I'll show them. Deadpool doesn't learn anything, EVER!"
There is probably some kind of psychology behind his defiance to learning lessons here. It is probably an opportunity for character growth throughout the course of the game. This is probably a foundation for....something.
no subject
Kyle stares at Wade with an expression of someone who has heard outlandish claims so often that he can't even work up enough emotion to be disbelieving. This is what happens when you regularly receive phonecalls at 2 AM about made-up cryptids and have spent a lifetime watching every adult around you act like a particularly stupid lemming.
"...right. Okay. Well. I guess we'll see." he holds up his wrist, displaying the Scrywatch. "You know, if this thing is monitoring us or whatever, it would show you."
no subject
"You so sure about that? You really don't have a paranoid bone in that whole body? I bet it's recording everything, and keeping it in some Dreamwidth database on the internets or something."
no subject
no subject
"I hope it does talk to me. I have all kinds of fun conversations with voices nobody else can hear. But so far...it's just trying to do a disco color scheme. Shulkie said that's because I haven't decided who I want to be here yet. I guess I'm already behind the curve."
He plops down. "So you're Not-Carrot-Top-Kyle. What do you think you're here to learn?"
no subject
"I don't know," he says irritably. "I don't HAVE anything to learn. I'm a normal, functioning young adult."
Lies.
no subject
"Wait what?" Deadpool stares at Kyle. "Um. Cartman. Towlie. Mr. Hankie. Imaginationland. Barbara Streisand. Cartman. Your dad riding his giant swollen testicles around town like a freaky bouncy exercise ball."
Unless that cartoon had been wrong, just exaggerating for cartoon effect and all. But still. He watched Kyle for how the word association would hit him. And also for if lightning would hit him for pulling cartoon knowledge into this.
no subject
"Don't you say that name!" he warns, like he really will haul off and pop him one. He lets go, looking pale.
"I don't know how you know all that," he says sickly. "And I don't care. Just. No. NO. That was years ago."
no subject
"So if you're this, what did..uh..Fatass?" That's what they called him in the cartoon anyway. "..end up becoming? Clearly nothing better than what he was if THIS is your response..."
no subject
"I don't know. We haven't spoken since high school."
no subject
He pops up and wraps an arm around Kyle's shoulder and side-hugs him. "It's all good though. You're my buddy now. I'll look out for you!"
One of those zombies had definitely been quite large and squat. Had Kyle noticed? It was probably better if he hadn't. He might feel the eyes of that zombie on him even now, although it was behind whatever barrier was keeping the beach looking pristine in the moonlight now.
The Coon's coming for you, Kyle. You just wait. Was that a real voice, or just a whisper on the wind?
no subject
"...thanks."
He turns his head suddenly, as if hearing a phantom voice, and shudders. No. He doesn't hear anything. Nope.
"I'll look out for you, too."