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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
Things are different. This isn’t Detroit. There’s no information to be gleaned. Not from a man who issues tests, anyway. There’s no reason to be afraid of a machine.
It’s alright. It’s all alright.
And if the focus remains on the problem at hand, it will all be fine. There are far bigger things for Connor to concern himself with. ]
If you mean in terms of someone else being able to prise it off, I don’t think that’s going to help much…
[ Her tone is careful. Sweet, but evidently wary of saying the wrong thing. ]
Not to say we couldn’t find a solution together, of course.
no subject
On the contrary, there is a wealth of information here to discover! It's just that deviant androids aren't likely to be the source of any answers here, especially if it's only the two of them. Connor sure as hell doesn't know what's going on. But no, Chloe has nothing to fear from him- at least, nothing that he doesn't already fear about himself.]
That's exactly what I mean.
[His eyes narrow, a frown forming. It's not any expression she won't have seen before on him; even when he wasn't deviant, in some ways he still had much more freedom of thought and behavior than other androids. He doesn't like Chloe's suggestion, not wanting to become reliant on anyone here for anything.]
What do you propose?
no subject
See? It’s just… locked in place. For want of a better way to describe it.
[ Drawing her hand back, she laces her fingers together and holds her hands neatly at her stomach. Whether there’s reason to be afraid or not, Chloe isn’t looking to appear confrontational in any way. Just polite, pleasant and ready to assist. The desire to look down at the floor is strong, but she maintains eye contact with him. ]
Well… The ones who aren’t wearing the sigil keep mentioning secrets… Perhaps that has something to do with it.
[ For once, she leaves her thoughts there. She isn’t the detective here, and she doesn’t want to antagonise by stepping on toes. ]
no subject
I see. It didn't hurt to test the hypothesis.
[She's giving him his space, enough room for him to settle, take a breath, and compose himself. And why wouldn't she? Chloe was designed to be the perfect companion and hostess, to be innocuous and unobtrusive, and all to Kamski's particular specifications. Was it even possible for her to offend? Although the eye contact is peculiar; he isn't sure what to make of it yet.]
I've heard similar whisperings, but I thought to explore other options first so as not to leave any stone unturned. Unless you have a secret to share, I won't trouble you further.
[His voice is nonchalant, almost dismissive, as though he has no secrets of his own. He doesn't, at least none that he cares to voice. But Chloe- through his mask, he stares at her shrewdly, assessing. Processing.]
no subject
Finally she gives in and diverts her gaze. But at least it’s to look around the room rather than fix her focus down at the floor. There’s no need to make it all worse by making it seem like there’s something wrong. Well, something other than what’s inherently wrong about the circumstances. ]
Yes. Of course. I didn’t mean to imply that ideas shouldn’t be tested. I was only trying to help.
[ Because that’s what she does, doesn’t she? Help. Oh yes, Chloe is so very helpful. Whatever you need, it doesn’t matter. Chloe is right there to assist.
Whatever it is.
Still, she looks out to the crowd, calming herself. There’s no sense in getting more wound up than she already is. So she answers him in a soft voice. ]
You aren’t troubling me.
[ The pause is palpable. If she’s going to have to lay her cards on the table at some point, may as well do it out in the open. Social protocol should hopefully mitigate reactions to some extent. ]
I’m a deviant.
[ Not strictly in the way the Deviant Hunter is familiar with, but that doesn’t make it any less true. And saying it aloud… It’s disgusting. She was given everything and this is what she has become. This… thing was never the intended design. It’s shameful. So shameful.
She feels the mask give. For a moment or two, she lets it stay in place. Maybe it would have been better to be seen as that than to be seen for what she really is.
Too late now.
Slipping off the mask, she turns her head to give Connor a sidelong look. While there’s a flicker of fear in her eyes, there’s also acceptance. Not of herself, not by a long shot, but of whatever the confession’s consequences might be. ]
no subject
I did ask for help, so thank you. We have eliminated the possibility of another person being able to remove the mask, so now we can forge ahead with others.
[He watches her carefully when she looks away, noting how her stress levels seem to be lowering a few percentage points. It's good that she's nervous around him, even if it plucks a pang of loneliness in his thirium pump. He's seen no sign of Hank yet, no others like he and Chloe. He knew he wouldn't be bothering the androids of Jericho, and Chloe is better off without the threat he poses, but he hadn't expected to be completely on his own so soon after deviating. He'd hoped for Hank at least.
He nods at her confession, folding his hands together behind his back. Now it's his turn to gaze around the room, taking in the other party-goers before his eyes land back on her form. He can read the tension there, the lingering distress in her posture.]
I suspected as much.
[His eyes widen almost imperceptibly, something a human would never have noticed as he watches her remove the mask after her confession. How he longs for his quarter to drain off some of his excess nerves! It's harder for him to read his fellow androids, but the brief flash of fear is unmistakable. He tilts his head, absorbing the information his HUD is telling him about her: the increased pace of her thirium pump, her rate of unnecessary respiration, the slivers of red that creep into the yellow of her rapidly cycling LED. He knows that his own LED matches hers, dreading the thought of having to reveal a secret in order to rid himself of this loathsome mask. And yet the more he gives it attention, the greater the compulsion to confess becomes. He bows his head, his eyes falling to the floor as his voice drops to little above a whisper.]
I am afraid.
[Of everything, as he feels his LED burn red in his temple.]
no subject
And if she was going to do something like that, wouldn’t she have done so by now?
All these people… She’s no threat to them. Her emotions are most damaging to herself, and she knows how to hide them well enough. It isn’t like she’s going to hurt anyone. Out of all the dark thoughts that she can have, acting out against anyone else doesn’t enter the equation.
And she knows he’s watching her.
Signs of guilt? Signs that the unstable android will pose a danger?
Is that why she’s here? Correction – why they’re both here? So what was resisted on one day can now come to pass?
Was that the design all along?
More red bleeds into the spinning light at her temple. But what comes out of his mouth makes her take pause. Makes her look at him more closely. He shouldn’t be afraid. Unless it’s a polite way of telling her he’s sorry for what he might be about to do.
Not that he would really be sorry either.
Yet his voice, his stance, she doesn’t interpret it as lying. Maybe it’s because she wants it to be, but it seems genuine. Genuine enough for her to step closer and lightly place a hand on his arm. Her own voice is quiet, soft. ]
What are you afraid of?
no subject
If anyone poses a danger here, it's him, but not for any deliberate actions. People may end up as collateral damage, maybe not physically, but it's still not what he wants. What he wants- what he wants is to feel safe. He doesn't know what that's like, but he knows it's a good thing, it's important for a person's well-being. Except that he's not a person, he's a machine, and machines don't want anything.
His gaze slides away from her face to the hand she's touched to his arm, freezing him in place. His mask feels heavy and oppressive, hot and stifling and like he can't breathe, even if he doesn't need to. Thirium runs hot in his artificial veins, flushing his skin a pale blue as his pump struggles to keep up with his processor and his scarlet LED. His words are whisper-soft now, but there is purpose behind them.]
I am afraid of myself.
no subject
What is he thinking, exactly? None of it seems to add up to lulling her into a false sense of security. And really, why would he? The Deviant Hunter has a job to do, not games to play.
The logical conclusion is that perhaps Connor isn’t as much of a machine as he’s making out to be. Which then begs the question of why. Why act like a machine in front of her, a suspected, and now admitted, deviant? Fears of CyberLife being able to monitor somehow, even from here? An attempt to correct his own deviant leanings?
Or perhaps the answer is simple – a machine knows exactly what it is and what it is to do.
Her expression softens to match her voice, and she keeps her hand on his arm for the moment. )
Why are you afraid of yourself, Connor?
( A more direct question than she would normally ask, but the processing he seems to be doing shouldn’t be stalled by politeness.
And maybe there’s a wanting to know if her lingering fears needs to remain, too. )
no subject
If only he was still a machine. He's lost here, out of his element, unsure of himself and everything about this place. Worse than being lost, he's afraid. Fear clings to him like cobwebs, flimsy yet cloying, permeating everything he thinks and does. If only Hank was here, maybe he wouldn't feel so alone and frightened. Plenty of new deviants had had to figure themselves out by themselves with little to no help, but how many had to when they were also in a completely different universe besides?
He lifts his eyes back to Chloe's face, very suddenly pulling his arm away from her and stepping back, raising his hands like a shield between them.]
I don't know. I don't know. I need- I have to get out of here.
[Turning, he speed-walks away from her until he's far enough that he can break into a jog, tugging angrily at the mask and tossing it to the side as he makes his hasty exit.]