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polymods ([personal profile] polymods) wrote in [community profile] polylogs2021-05-01 03:00 pm

Destination: Carcosa

POLYMYTHOS: 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!


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motiontostrike: (pic#14255615)

[personal profile] motiontostrike 2021-05-03 03:14 am (UTC)(link)
"It's a whale of a good time," Matt remarks with a knowing smile. Sooner or later, he's sure that he'll come across someone who carries themselves like they have something to hide. Something more than the secrets they all carry like a weight around their wrists, that is. For the time being, the woman hardly seems suspicious. As weird as their surroundings are, it seems to Matt there's no immediate sense of danger.

"Sort of accurate, too. If you look sideways and squint." He adds the latter part after a beat, like it's meant to sound ironic. "You don't subscribe to their philosophy any more?"
queenking: ([neutral] stare-down)

[personal profile] queenking 2021-05-04 02:52 am (UTC)(link)
Saxsice squints out into the audience for a moment in confusion -- why's he talking about whales all of a sudden -- but then shrugs, taking her feet off the table and standing again. Part of her wonders why she isn't tired yet, why she's still moving around frenetically, anxiously.

Another part doesn't care, hopping off the stage and coming to sit backwards in the seat in front of him. It's hard to see when he's out in the dim audience, after all. "Nah, I kinda think most people deserve respect and all that, not just people I'm related to." A pause, as she rocks back and forth on the seat, like an anxious child. "Regardless of whether I can trust them or not."
motiontostrike: (pic#14407486)

[personal profile] motiontostrike 2021-05-04 03:25 am (UTC)(link)
One benefit of the way Matt perceives the world around him is the ability to track her movements without even lifting his head. He doesn't need to follow her footsteps or the way she uses the theatre seat in every direction but the way it's intended to know that she's agitated. Something feels like it's eating away at him too. He's been trying all night to understand what it is this place wants from them, and he still feels like he's come up empty.

"Respecting someone is a lot easier than trusting them," he agrees. "Do you think that's what we're supposed to learn to do here?"
queenking: ([neutral] puppy dog eyes)

[personal profile] queenking 2021-05-05 05:01 am (UTC)(link)
Saxsice grimaces, both hands coming to grip the back of the seat as she gives him a thoughtful once-over. It's easier to see, this close, and she wonders privately about the sunglasses -- red-tinted is a bold fashion choice, especially in a darkened theater. But despite her overwhelming social clumsiness, she's wise enough to keep her questions to herself. For the moment.

Instead she frowns, resting her chin on her hands. "You think we're here to learn somethin'?" She sounds both skeptical and anxious. "That's a lotta pressure. What if I don't wanna learn anythin'?"
motiontostrike: (pic#14407486)

[personal profile] motiontostrike 2021-05-23 08:50 pm (UTC)(link)
"That's what the Ferryman said, isn't it?" It's not the strangest thing he's ever said, but it ranks up there. While it would be a lot easier to think this is all just some kind of elaborate illusion meant to trap him inside his own mind, he's found no evidence of that yet. In fact, Matt has to concede that there's more pointing to the fact that he isn't the main target of this at all. Not that being caught up in someone else's bad trip is any more reassuring.

"'Redeem yourself, save the world.' It's a lot of pressure all right. I don't get the feeling they're giving us much choice, do you?"
queenking: ([neutral] ew no why)

[personal profile] queenking 2021-05-25 02:43 am (UTC)(link)
"Oh, him." Saxsice says this somewhat dismissively, likely to cover the fact that when the Ferryman was giving his spiel, she was alternately cussing him out and trying to jump off the boat. Not her most dignified moment, but shockingly not her least either. She shifts to sit on one hip, plucking at the loose threads in the seat cushion.

"Right, yeah, like we're all a bunch'a hardened criminals who've gotta make amends." A pause, and her eyes flick over the man, appraisingly. "...not to make any assumptions, but you seem like a nice enough guy. Definitely too nice to be stuck on mandatory life lesson island."