First TDM: Sterile Blues

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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

[inthemiddle]

I was. Looking for patients. I'm a doctor.

[Not that he looks much like one, in this strange world. His lily flowers flutter on his head, far too animated to merely be decorations plucked and placed in his hair. They swivel like little satellites to take in Ethan's words, though how they might be attached to Silas is obscured with his curly mop of pink hair]

If you are in need, sir. My magic has very little it cannot solve. My current state of being... aside. [a big aside]

[syntech]

[A doctor, huh? Ethan's brows rise up at the talk of magic - but again, that's hardly the most bizarre thing here, isn't it? Moreover, there's the movement of lily flowers and now, now they certainly catch attention, moving not unlike an animal's ears in response to stimuli. How bizarre.

The pause before he 'speaks' again isn't wholly that, though. There's a hesitation with which his hand moves to type, and a thoughtfulness to the tilt of his head as he forms the words.]

{The presence of a doctor is reassuring, but my condition probably isn't that easily cured. I've been this way since birth, after all.} [There's a pause, punctuated by the very plain contemplation of whether or not to broach the subject of magic - and of course, Silas has at least found something he was looking for... of a sort. So hey, small positives?]

{Granted, I can't claim to know much about magic, given it's not something we have where I come from. Either way, as far as I can tell this place is making everything feel heavy and harsh the longer we're here. It's probably the best and worst place to find patients both. I'm about to take something for stop-gapping the minor issues and leave while standing is still a possibility.}

[inthemiddle]

[Silas mouths "worst place" without actually saying the words, a nervous habit of his. With a sigh, he again makes the attempt to stand, knees wobbling before he can get them solidly grounded for some leverage. If Silas has one thing, it's a tenacity that can stubbornly pull him through the worst of situations. He can get stood up, even if he's still heavily relying the door frame to help with that. It's something.]

Likely not the best... time nor place. For me to test my magic upon you, good sir. At a better moment. Perhaps.

[syntech]

[They're most assuredly in agreement on that fact, regardless. And there's little surprise when Silas manages to stand - though they'll see how walking fares. In that moment, the most logical route is confirmed in his head.]

{Normally, I would be wholly skeptical over being a test subject, especially given that I have no understanding of magic.}

[There's the easy implication that he'll be accepting this arrangement, given a better time and location indeed, but he feels the need to say the fact nonetheless.]

{In any case, the last place I have to check is near the door out. Shall we be on our way? You can wait outside when we get there. The fresh air might help.}

[inthemiddle]

I do assure you. I am a master at my art. Ah. Though. I would never impose it upon another if it is not to their comfort! [Silas stammers out, knowing how those who were not Springtide could see a druid's magic as... unsavory. It wasn't well understood in the Above World. Not that it seems this other man is from Myddvai at all. Questions for later, much like his magic would be. They should get out of this horrible place.]

Clearly. I'm in no state to do anybody any good. We should. Be going. [Another deep breath and flutter of his flowers. Focus. Okay, walking, he can do this.

He can't do it. He immediately buckles at the ankles and needs to catch himself on Ethan. With any luck, he doesn't take the other man down into a heap they can't get up from]

[syntech]

{It's not that, so much. Trust, like friendship for you, is not a word I come by easily.}

[For once, it's a short and sweet explanation, and one that speaks volumes of a sickly-looking young man. Certainly, they'll likely have a long talk about their differences - and about those damned flowers, because they were beginning to distract the poor cyberhacker - later. When they were in a safer location.

That he doesn't go down, by that measure, is a fact of chance more than anything. The grunt that escapes his lips isn't intentional by any means, and Silas will note that this kid is... pretty cool to the touch. Not worryingly so, but enough. There are also a couple of spots, if he ends up leaning on them, where there are odd... protrusions? They appear to be round and flat, close to his skin like they're sticking out of it. Fingers grip the nearby wall with enough force to whiten the knuckles more than they already are, and he takes in a sharp, bracing breath. So occupied, he doesn't really have the hands to type... and so he doesn't speak at all, instead just giving Silas a wry look that's just this side of 'this is what hubris does'.

Given a second, he'll manage to correct his balance, at least, and lean his weight forward to brace under Silas' much more considerable form. It's easier to use the other's momentum, after all, than his own, and once he has the hand free from gripping onto the wall, he'll type again. Dude's got some pretty impressive keyboard skills overall.]

{Alright. Change of plans. Let's find you that wheelchair. Doctor becomes a patient or whatever - there's probably a serial about that.}

[He's not got enough pride to try to carry this guy every already-staggered step of the way, and Silas isn't alone in his habit of joking to cover nerves. Thankfully, he remembers seeing a wheelchair in one of the nearby rooms on the way toward 'out'. Now they just have to get there.]

[inthemiddle]

[Ah, how embarrassing, he's hanging off this poor man and he can't do much to change that. Not without casting himself to the floor and saying "leave me save yourself" which is really just too overdramatic a measure to avoid embarrassment. No... embarrassment feels inevitable at this point. Might as well lean into that. Or... hold on tight, given the current circumstance]

A, again. My apologies. For such a burden. Ah... [he has an idea of how to make this... easier for them both. Yet again. It's the most embarrassing option. Silas can't catch a break. That's just how it goes with him]

Odd. Question. Do humor me. Might you have any aversion to. Ah. Pigs? [just hear him out-]

What a conversation

[syntech]

[Exhaling a little laugh, one that's certainly more fittingly deep and smooth than the voice his fingers keep calling up, he shrugs his free shoulder.]

{It's impromptu, but partners are partners, and I don't leave mine behind.}

[And then that's the question Silas asks, and for a long moment it leaves Ethan blinking helplessly at him. He even mouths the word 'Pigs?' before he responds, boggling at what the hell that question could mean. In the end, though, it's still typing that gets him by.

That's definitely not partly because he is physically very frail and possibly with a body that's already starting to protest in the form of short breaths and aching.]

{I don't have a problem with any animal, no. Why?}

real winners these two

[inthemiddle]

[Silas can tell just from being scarcely held up that this isn't going to work out, as it is. He's far too heavy and clumsy and weakened. Ethan can't be expected to carry him around as he is, even just to find a wheelchair. Something needs to change and Silas... well]

I can transform. Into. A pig. A small pig- at that. If you would not find it too uncouth to carry me, Sir. I would be in your debt. [not that he has anything to give besides healing, but that can be a valuable commodity to offer]

It's wonderful, I love it

[syntech]

[Transform... into a pig. You know... It's honestly not the weirdest thing ever? There are plenty of people in his time who choose to live their lives in the digital world as all kinds of animals. He'll just... Suspend his disbelief of this being actual reality (because of it weren't, he'd currently be occupying a form that would make Silas' suggestion a lot less embarrassing) and pretend this is all... Normal.

It doesn't work, but that's what he's telling himself. It's all a very quick, if strangely drawn out process of running through the hoops of the logistics of everything - remarkably, there's literally no judgment on Ethan's face.

Also, pigs are cute.]

{Even I can do that, I think. I'll attempt not to pet you whilst carrying.}

[Again, that voice makes it hard to tell if he's joking, and he doesn't elaborate further.



Because he's not joking.]

brace for next level cuteness

[inthemiddle]

I, I cannot speak. In that form. [muttered, under his breath, maybe too quick]

Soyou'rewelcometopetmeit'sfine-

[he really doesn't mind, which is code for not admitting he would actually quite like that. A tad touch starved, this one. Don't worry about it too much, he can keep that to himself.

He wouldn't begrudge someone helping him out if they wanted to pat him or play with his ears, people do so without checking in with him plenty back home. Pink hair and lily flowers on his head tend to be a bit too bizarre for most people to resist touching]

P, pardon my reach... [Silas just going to... put his hands together on one of Ethan's shoulders, putting his chin to rest over them after. He warns-] You should be ready to hold me. I would fall to the floor. If not.

[Just do it, Silas! If he loses anymore energy, he won't be able to at all. He closes his eyes and takes a breath in, before a swirl of green mist whips around him in a brief whirlwind. Suddenly, there's far less weight and size in his place. A roughly football sized mossy, green pig wearing all his clothing is left in Ethan's arms... should the other man not choose to drop him immediately. The mist dissipated fast, leaving just a fragrant lily smell to linger in the room]

Piggy Silas is so cute, im love him

[syntech]

{I'll likely have nothing to say myself, after.}

[More precisely, he needs his hands to type the words. Beyond that, he's not too tense when the druid reaches out, instead accepting this bizarre situation for what it is as hands rest on one shoulder and breath, necessarily, ghosts against his neck. It's fine, he's fine, he's not at all touch-starved either. They'll be out of here in no time. The relief of weight and posture hits almost immediately as hands move to catch the other.

Ethan's surprise is... Well, probably not unexpected, when he beholds (and simply holds) Silas' new form. It's... Okay. It's even cuter than he expected. He can admit that. Somehow, he wasn't expecting the clothes? And it does make the lilies have something more of a concrete reasoning, given that they're, ah... Still there, and all.

The scent of the lilies has a strange effect on Ethan, if a very brief one - his grip almost... Trembles slightly? Nothing to worry about, assuredly, and he recovers without a word and all.

Which is about all the analysis he needs to start moving. After one good little scritch at the base of a lily-ear. The pace is thankfully not overly hindered - taking care of himself has been a necessity for a long time, after all - though he can feel gravity tugging on him something awful. One stop into a side room for a pack or two of bandages and gauze later, and then they're on their way to freedom (with or without a few more idle touches on soft piggy features).

And fresh air.

And, hopefully, not seeing blue. Whatever the case, Ethan will end up sinking down to sit, finally allowing himself to succumb to the exhaustion of the situation as he sets his would-be doctor aside. He'll be fine, he just. Needs a minute. Maybe a week.]

[inthemiddle]

[Silas was going to be content holding still and polite as possible in Ethan's hold. That is, until he gets some ears scratches. Oh... that's sure a spot. Silas goes from a perhaps comically well postured animal into flopping into Ethan's chest, resting there instead. He is very easy to carry, this way, far less a burden then in any other shape.

When they reach the outside, he's set beside Ethan as the man sits down, exhausted. Silas doesn't have much energy himself, certainly not enough to shift back right away. He does have enough to scoot close, planting (hah) himself at Ethan's side and putting his piggy chin on to his thigh. Support animal??

Silas is there for him while they take the time to recover, the druid suspecting he'll bounce back far quicker, if only his passive healing starts to work it's magic again.]

[syntech]

[There's little comfort for Silas in Ethan's thigh - he's just about as bony there as anywhere. But it draws his eyes down and the small smile he gives is surprisingly warm and soft. It's almost as though he's forgotten he's supposed to be suspicious and wary.

He hasn't, but by the shallow, rattling breaths and flush to his otherwise concerning pallor, he doesn't seem to have much choice. The problem wasn't caused by the lifting, even, and the man seems at least quite used to it.

Having something to focus on helps, too, and he allows himself a scant few more touches before he's stable enough to... Well, still sit there, but also think to speak again.]

{Good to see you in full colour, though. Don't know what the hell that was about, but blue vision is not a symptom I want to add to my norm.}

[inthemiddle]

[It's admittedly very difficult to look at Silas' pig form suspiciously. The long, pink eyelashes he's batting up at Ethan are frankly absurd, just too downright adorable. The little creature nuzzles into the fleeting petting, unable to communicate in much more than approving, soft puffs from his nose.

The flowers on his head certainly make more sense without his pink hair in the way. They extend directly out from the hogling's head in the place ears would be. Likewise, their expressiveness moves as one would expect of an animal's ears, pointed at Ethan attentively. His green eyes are clearly concerned, watching the other man carefully in case he needs some help... a pig can provide? A druid could provide, really. Silas may not be able to speak in this form, but could still use his magic in this shape if need be.]

[syntech]

[He really is difficult to find suspicious. It's a little frustrating, when he knows the guy could probably pick him up one-handed in his human form.

Most people could do that, though. He's consoling himself with puzzling out Silas' ears, how they would work and honestly how he even hears with them. Do petals offer some kind of sound absorption...? He's not sure. And now Silas is just staring at him with an all too familiar look of concern (on a much more adorable face than usual), and it earns a sort of dismissive wave and another scritch on the ears.]

{I'll be alright. This is fatigue I'm used to having after a much longer timeframe, but it's largely normal; the heaviness that I felt inside has mostly passed. I have painkillers and medication for it.} [inclining his head, he reaches to touch... Something just below the back of his neck, an odd nervous gesture.] {At worst, my nose might start bleeding again. Are you starting to feel less fatigued?}

[inthemiddle]

[The piglet nods in affirmation at the question, his own energy surging back, really. Druid's have a lot of stored magic, Silas only slept every five days or so because of it. To feel so suddenly sapped was new for him. And he's not one for self care, magic did all that passively, without his effort. He saved that for others.

After his few more scritches, he'll step away from Ethan's lap. There's another whirl of mist, enough to obscure what the shifting actually looks like, but the man Silas isn't there after. He merely turned himself to a large boar form. Far less cute, especially when tusks grow own far more dangerously sharp than they appeared on Silas in either other forms.

He moves himself behind Ethan, nudging against his back, and flopping himself into his belly to rest there. The other man can lean back on him this way! He's like a firm pillow, very round and soft, but sturdy so Ethan could feel free to relax and recover. Intimidating as an animal his size is, Silas' whole demeanor in that shape is protective, keeping a vigilant eye out for his newfound companion.]

[syntech]

[It's still odd, how much of a soft sound Silas brings to mind. After all, he's plainly strong and certainly not any sort of weak, but... well, how people presented themselves was its own beauty, wasn't it? He probably shouldn't be surprised, but he is.

Just as he's surprised by the sudden sense of sforzando and subsequent decrescendo accompanying Silas' new change, something he'd not had the energy to dwell on. Synesthesia is a pain in the ass enough on a normal day, after all. Now, he just watches - surprisingly placidly, for someone who's admitted to knowing nothing of magic - as Silas turns into... a bigger boar. Huh. Far less cute, maybe, but... still kinda cute. Ethan may just kind of like animals, though. His head tilts curiously as the other moves, and there's an amount of tension when Silas' side nudges his back - but as before, it settles pretty quickly.

... god, but he's so fucking tired. He's always tired, granted, but not like this. This is definitely a rare occasion, like test days or something, and it leaves him far more willing to let someone help him than usual. Besides, there's something almost familiar about this man and his strange sound.

Sighing, he leans what amounts to a paltry weight against the boar, eyes sliding almost closed for a moment. Weird... this whole place is insane. It's worse than anything he's dealt with in a long time, and all he wants is to go back to Dolvaa and apologise for his sudden disappearance. Instead, he gives some thought to an idea he's never had before. Not out in the middle of the world, with someone whose name he doesn't even know. It's a thought that sticks in his head and on his tongue, scratches the record of his sensibility ceaselessly. It's a thought that resolves itself in a soft, slightly scratchy sound - deep and rich, but ill-used and barely loud enough to carry. A tone much more pleasantly natural than the feminine voiceover.]

.... Thank you.

[It may well be all Silas gets of that real voice for a while to come, but it's a pretty big start. Especially this early on. What the hell is wrong with him today?]