First TDM: Sterile Blues

[upcyclingmod]

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Arrival


Not all characters (known as Wickie, singular or Wickies, plural) arrive at the same time, surprisingly enough! That’s life for you. Some Wickies find their way to the island at a pivotal (or very mundane) point in their life, or even after or during their death.

Wickies who were standing or walking often find themselves entering the town South Sister, located on Lighthouse Isle, through an open doorway. Those that were laying down, or sleeping, tend to be found lying prone in beds, bathtubs, showers, couches, and similar places within the cottages on Cottage Row. There’s no rhyme or reason to it all! To Wickies familiar with the era, they will realize that everything looks as if it’s come from the ‘90s.

The house which a Wickie finds themselves within could already be occupied. This includes walking into a fellow Wicke, waking up in the same location, or accidentally scaring a room full of people with their sudden appearance.

Oops.


Sterile Blues

After arriving, Wickes will find that food and water are easy enough to come by, as they can be readily found in the various houses which populate Lighthouse Isle. Medical supplies, on the other hand, are not so easily acquired. Bandaids and other simple trappings can be pilfered from the odd medical cabinet, but otherwise you’re on your own.

Thankfully, if a Wickie or their friend are in need of medicine or a pair of trauma shears, while you won’t find a full-fledged hospital on the island, there is a clinic. The clinic, named Sister’s Helpers, is like the rest of the buildings in town. Its appearance is well kept, and the doors are unlocked. Whether the Wickie goes in through the windows (because they can), or through the front door like most would, they’ll find that the clinic’s interior is crisp, clean, and orderly. There are plastic chairs, a desk where a receptionist would sit, white walls, but then—

There’s a sound. It could be mistaken for a breeze, at first. But as the sound goes on, it becomes more obvious that the ‘breeze’ is an exhale, prolonged and forced. At the end, there’s a murmur, professional and assuring.

“That’s good. Breathe.”

And with that, the clinic becomes awash in shades of blue. Sister’s Helpers itself hasn’t become warped in any way. There is only monochromatic coloring which, upon further realization, is not truly in the building, but a problem with their vision. Leaving without investigating further will mean having blue vision for the next twenty-four hours.

But for Wickies who choose to stay and explore, there is a chance at clearing their vision. This is is especially difficult for those who have a history of not taking care of their injuries. Gradually, it becomes more difficult to walk, as if there are weights on their feet. For Wickies are especially guilty of not tending to their wounds, their movements will become even more sluggish, and weight will settle on their arms and chest, forcing the worst of offenders into a crawl as they explore from room to room.

Laying on the patient beds will alleviate the situation for a short amount of time. The cure, however, will come from characters taking the supplies which they need for themselves and not for others.

If the Wickie fails this, over the course of an hour they will be crushed to death, and will eventually wake up outside of the clinic. Their vision stuck in shades of red with a weakness in their limbs for the next twenty four hours.

The Wickie’s only cure for that is either taking medical supplies for themselves or by doing some form of self care.


Ashes, Ashes

It’s the middle of the night when all the Wickies are jarred awake from sleep by the blare of a broken siren. Wailing into the dark, the siren functions as a foghorn might, warning of hazardous conditions to come. Beneath Wickies feet, the ground trembles, pulsating once. Twice. Three times. And again, and again until—

The world changes, and it is no longer the foggy island the Wickies knew.

Ash falls steadily from above, blanketing the ground, and at first glance it can be mistaken for snow. Whether by scent, by touch, or even by taste (an option for the brave, the bold, the few), the truth of the ‘snowfall’ can be easily revealed. It is strange, though, that there are no signs of fire in the vicinity. In fact, there doesn’t seem to be much of anything at all. There’s still no sign of the mainland. There are no buildings in this desolate place, either.

Lighting in this new landscape is hazy and sullen, but still conducive to exploring despite it being the dead of night just moments ago. But while Wickies walk, there’s a growing feeling of foreboding. There’s something… something else with them.

And it conceals itself in the ash.

It attacks by lashing out to grab at the ankles and the calves, attempting to drag the unsuspecting victim down, to somewhere far deeper and hidden by billowing piles of ash. It’s easy to save a Wickie from the pull, so long as they’re quickly freed from their assailants grasp. Retrieving someone out of the ash itself is nigh impossible, though.

Grabbed Wickies who lived to tell the tale, may find themselves bitten. The stalkers in the ash sink their teeth into the foot or calf of their prey, leveraging the force of their bite to take down their target. And once there’s blood, more of these creatures will be attracted to the smell.

If a Wickie is clever or strong enough to draw the stalkers out of the ash, they will find that the attackers are shark-like people. Most of their head consists of oversized jaws housing an impossible amount of teeth, and lacking any eyes. Their bodies are covered in ashen chitin and bone, with elongated feet and thin, taloned fingers. These Ash Sharks do not like being exposed, and will respond accordingly.

Ash Sharks cannot be reasoned with. Trapping one in ropes, magic, or other means will elicit angry shrieks which will attract other Ash Sharks, either to eat the trapper, or trapped, or both if they can. Being dragged completely under the ash will start a feeding frenzy, and the Ash Shark will proceed to rip and tear chunks out of its prey.

In dying, Wickies will reset to a random location within the ash filled fields, completely intact but for a purpling bruise where the initial bite took place.

Good luck.


Network Time: The Heart Game

There’s a beeping alert on all Wickie’s smartphones that refuses to stop until a particular notification is read. The notification is for something called the Heart Game (which, yes, looks annoying, overly bright, and cheesy). And surprise! The game opens up automatically with a loud ping!

The game begins (and ends!) with a question, one which will not go away even if you try to close out of it or shut off your smartphone. It reads:

It’s time for everyone's favorite game! Confession! Heeeeere is today’s question which you must confess!

What is… the scariest thing you’ve experienced? It can be anything!

code bases by tricklet

Comments

[globs]

I'm a crystal, not a lowly rock.

[ rude!! ]

[robopriest]

My apologies. Well, crystals are rocks, too, but..........

What kind of crystal?

[globs]

You made me sound like something you'd just pick up off the ground.

[ it was not lost on them... even if he's correct, technically. ]

Why do you want to know?

[robopriest]

It depends on the crystal! A lot that I know of are very small, indeed.

And why shouldn't I ask? Crystals are as varied as human beings are. I guess I'm just curious as to what you look like.

[globs]

There are plenty of people that want us for themselves.

[ although they suppose they've already been taken. it's not like they can forget how bizarre this whole situation is. they're working extremely hard not to start breaking into pieces from stress.

in any case, even if he does want to steal gems, they already know that nobody wants one like them. ]

Cinnabar.

[robopriest]

[Well, he's never thought about it from the perspective of a crystal before, considering crystals are very much not sentient as far as he's aware, but...maybe they have a point. It must be terrifying, to be so highly desired.]

A lot of gems are very pretty. Diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, quartz...

Cinnabar, though...not one of the ones I see at all, really. Mostly because of the mercury issue.

[globs]

So you already know about it.

[ at least that's one person they don't have to explain everything to. hopefully. his comment sounds like a backhanded way of calling Cinnabar ugly or undesirable, to their ears, and it stings, but only a little bit - after all, it's been that way their entire life. ]

[robopriest]

I do. I'm no gem expert, though, so if you were something especially obscure, I wouldn't have much to say.

Though you saying that...does it bother you?

[globs]

It doesn't. If you know that I'm dangerous already, then I don't have to spend time explaining everything.

[robopriest]

Ah, so you're basically preemptively telling me to go away because of what you understand about your nature.

Dangerous or not, it doesn't mean I want to keep away, though!

[globs]

Then whatever happens to you isn't my problem.

[robopriest]

That's totally fine. I put myself in danger on a regular basis. A little mercury is nothing.

Besides, I'm made of tougher stuff than most. ;)

[globs]

I doubt it. Humans are made of meat and fluids like any other animal.

[ this is maybe the grossest description but to be fair cinnabar thinks organic life is pretty gross in a technical sense, so ]

[robopriest]

Hm?? Who said that I was made of meats and fluids? Or that I was even human, rather?

[Well he is human, technically, but shhhhh. The gem doesn't need to know that. The body counts as something past human, anyways.]

[globs]

Then what are you? You "drink coffee."

[robopriest]

I sure do.

Having a stomach that can digest coffee isn't some big red flag that I'm human, though!

[globs]

I don't know any other animals that can write.

[robopriest]

And yet you're writing, too. Should I call you human, now? Congratulations on your move into the animal world! :P

[globs]

I don't have a stomach, stupid.

[robopriest]

Pity. You're missing out. :/

Anyways, I have a stomach. But I'm not really made of flesh and bones like most people are. Here's the riddle: what am I?

[globs]

Lunarian?

[robopriest]

[?????????]

are you making up words now or

[globs]

I didn't think so.

[ unless this person is lying, which is possible, but, frankly, the Lunarians have never engaged in that kind of subterfuge or even tried communicating. Cinnabar would be lying if they said they didn't give that answer mostly to try and puncture his attitude... ]

I don't know what you are.

[robopriest]

Well too bad. I'd give you the answer, but its a secret~

Unless you want a one-on-one visit or something to see what I am for yourself. Maybe if I'm in a good mood, I'll give you a hint.

[globs]

No. I don't care. It's not like you're less trapped here than I am. And I don't want to see anyone, anyway.