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

[grice]

[ mister mandalorian is about to come out of his mouth but he's too fixated on the man to remember to say anything— especially when he acknowledges the doll. did he make a face? did he smile? falco will never know and somehow his imagination is scarier than what actually happened. for now, the bear will have to be abandoned. ]

D—Dadita? [ it takes falco a second, or perhaps a few, but his expression widens up with surprise and uncertainly grasping at an answer when he makes the most plausible connection. it's a fast one regardless, for a child, at least. ] You mean Morse Code?

[ he doesn't take long to elaborate; most short pauses and lasting stares always indicated him to continue. ]

It's basic emergency communication, sir. I was taught it in Liberio. Marley.

[muffled]

Hm.

[ curious that. he was told mandalorians invented the code, but the kid knows it under a different name?

the mandalorian looks back to checking the immediate surroundings of the store, takes a few steps further in to check around the blindspots, then lowers the gun. maybe he's on edge, but this town isn't as abandoned as it first appears. he turns back to grice. ]

What's the emergency?

[grice]

[ as the mandalorian turns away at the slightest, falco takes the chance to swiftly and gently bend his knees to swipe the downed bear plush and stuff it into his pocket like no one would see the fuzzy bulge poking out of it. patting the dirt at the shins of his pants, he raises himself to follow along once the gun is down. ]

Oh— [ the biggest problem of all. ] There was something really important happening back home, and, I really need to get back, but . . . [ gesture ] I woke up here alone. I thought I’d find the people I was with, with that code.

[ he didn’t, even if he’s greatful for the more benevolent company he’s met. ]

Sorry if I bothered you, Mister Mandalorian. Um— were you looking for someone too?

[muffled]

...No.

[ he had hoped maybe to find one of his people. that, maybe, there were survivors. a fool's hope.

he holsters the gun, for now. ]

I don't think you're getting back home soon. [ blunt, but likely true. how they got here at all is still a complete mystery to him. ] Are you armed?

[grice]

—No, sir.

[ as downcast as he felt, his response was still sufficient and prompt. the possibility of being unable to stop anything happening was still more probable than not. it shouldn't mean he should give up, but . . . something to think about. even if it won't get him anywhere. falco shakes his head. ]

But I know how to shoot. Do we need to be armed in the first place?

[ it had a weird and uneasy air to it, but it seemed . . . peaceful. ]

[muffled]

For now, no. In the future? Likely.

[ even if this town is seemingly abandoned, someone brought them here. danger is never too far away and in life you're either hunter or prey at any given moment. he knows which of the two he wants to be. ]

I'll let you know if I find something you can use. [ if the kid can shoot like he says. no way to know if he's just posturing. ] In the meanwhile... is there any food here? Something soft, or easy to chew on?

[grice]

[ some part of falco hoped that it wasn't something human again— he'd rather be bandaging someone's wound than holding a rifle to their gut, but the world . . . he was also aware that the rest of the world didn't work that way, even though he did. he'd stay his hand for as long as he could before taking combat initiative— but he would too, if all else failed. being offered a weapon if found has falco give a short nod. a pistol, a rifle, anything with a trigger was something he was drilled to learn and at least good enough at it to be sent to the front lines, or even become a higher candidate. he had the emergency card, if anything else, either.

being asked for softer foods gets the boy to halt close to the man's side, look farther through one of the aisles to spot cans, recognizing those, and trotting to the shelves that held them. ]

There's a lot, the whole place is stocked. [ the sealed jar he decides to pick has a picture of apples on them, that has the most of his attention. the words, on the other hand are in english, a language that doesn't exist to him, technically. but still he can make out the writing. ] Na-tu-rall, nnneck-tar . . . Ap hel source.

[ —! ]

—Apple sauce. Like this?

[ he doesn't question why mister mandalorian prefers soft things, maybe his teeth are sensitive, but falco's eyes gleam with expectancy that he's being helpful. he'll grab something to eat for himself later. ]

[muffled]

[ the mandalorian doesn't follow, wanting to keep an eye on the door while grice searches, but gives a curt nod when apple sauce is brought up. he's never heard of it, but he can connect the dots to what it is. ]

Yeah, that'll do.

[ he makes his way over to take a jar, turning it over in his hand to give it a better look. it's as he does this the lump in the blanket he carries stirs, and out from the bundle two arms reach up. green arms, with three-fingered claws for hands, vaguely waving in want. the mandalorian looks down at the child.

a gentle chide- ] No. You can eat it later.

[grice]

[ —there was actually something in the bundle, and here he thought the man was just carrying his things. innocent curiosity takes over in an instant, with falco's attention migrating from the so many jars of food to a little green hand making grabby motions . . . ]

O-Oh . . .

[ b a b y. his older brother colt was the one who got a take-care-of-baby phase (falco being the baby at the time), but tiny inoffensive things has him making his steps over slower and smoother, and his voice that much quieter, only a gentle whisper as his head raised as high as it could with him on his toes— the mandalorian still towered over him. ]

Is he . . . Sick?

[ it's green, with three fingers. he's never seen a green baby, but he still asks with the utmost virtue and genuine concern. this could be the man's son or he his guardian, after all (and the only thing that really makes sense in falco's head). ]

[muffled]

No... don't think so.

[ he wasn't thinking about the possibility of the child being sick until grice mentioned it, but now it's in his head and will be lodged there all day. his head tilts back up to grice, sees him trying to take a peak, and obliges by lowering his arms to give him a better glance.

the child, nestled comfortably in his bundle, slightly turns its head to the newcomer. it still wants whatever is in that jar, but a new face is easily distracting. ]

He can't talk but he understands.

[grice]

[ the lowering was appreciated at its best when falco's hazel eyes widen, stare— then melt. it's . . . it's baby his heart. a very odd baby that he doesn't think is human from the looks of it, but being looked at like that with those big round eyes-! it has this unknown charm that doesn't make him scary, and if the man confirms his health, what's falco to say of his appearance? he curls and uncurls his finger at the air around it, pulling back when feeling uncertain if he should touch, but out with his shy smile comes a: ]

Hi . . . [ says bean to smaller bean. with rejuvenated energy and newfound purpose, falco takes a step back with something new: a bright look that suits him. ] Don't worry about carrying the jars Mister Mandalorian, I'll get you a bag!

[ one! that he!! can carry for him!!! and promptly, falco turns heel to the front of the store and jogs back with a shopping bag, opening it from its handles to catch the jar the mandalorian holds. ]

What's his name?