The Quiet Place Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bequiet) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
quietplacelogs2018-03-12 06:34 pm
bequiet) wrote in quietplacelogs2018-03-12 06:34 pm
Entry tags:
INTRO LOG #3
INTRO LOG #3
Put a Sock in It
Content Warnings: Disorientation, memory loss, confusion
Themes: Arrival, survival, exploration, horror
You wake, standing. A thick, muddy red dust coats your skin and clothes - it sticks to your tongue and blocks your vision. Inhale and it chokes you, exhale and your breath puffs out in front of your face in a transparent maroon cloud. It tastes of copper, tangy and harsh. Movement is difficult, every limb tingles and aches. Look to your left, your right. Evenly spaced in each direction stands another person indistinguishable in every way from the next. You're disoriented and lethargic, unable to grasp onto a single thought. A pinprick of light blooms ahead and grows steadily larger; a door has opened.
Hands grip your wrists, push at the small of your back and guide you out of the darkness into a room with four walls and a thin, sagging ceiling. The plaster is peeling, the air is musty, and the floor is slick. White plastic piping juts up from the center and curves into multiple spouts, clean water flowing in uneven streams. Those hands pull your clothes off and clear the dust from your body, redress you in handsewn jumpsuits. By the time they’re through, you will have begun to come back to yourself.
A finger is pressed to your lips. Kind eyes meet your own and a single word is whispered - hush.
Led out of the room in a line, you’re taken down a short hallway and into another, much larger room. There’s a woman waiting for you there, Constance, with a child hugging her leg - a cloth bag in her hands. She reaches in and pulls out a device, passes one to each of you. Once finished, she begins to move both hands in graceful gestures, a language. One of the people who helped you lifts their device and the screen lights up, tracks the woman’s hands. Letters appear on the screen and you understand the device’s purpose. She tells you what she knows and it’s not much.
This world is haunted. Noise attracts them, so it is not allowed. Communication is through body language, soundless writing, and the device. She tells you that your feet must be light and your mouth never used. There is a community outside these doors, where you can survive together, but only if you agree to one thing: complete and total silence. You'll have time to talk it over. You may ask one question and receive one answer. There are others like you in the room, those who'd come earlier. They're there to help.
Acceptance allows you to journey outside. The ground is marked in pathways of sand, lining the paths to each building and everywhere in-between. You notice that the locals hold their devices always, aloft and glance to it often. It will not vibrate or make a sound to signal a message. Notices appear. Rules. Guidelines. Feet on the sand and never anywhere else. To open a door you brush your fingers along the hinges - oiled and you may enter. If not, take the brush from the can sitting nearby and coat the metal with the dark liquid.
Now, you're to settle into your new home – with or without the help of those who have come before you.
In Freakish Flight
Content Warnings: Threat to safety, death, weird creatures
Themes: Plot, survival
This is the tale that was told to me by the man with the crystal eye,
As I smoked my pipe in the camp-fire light, and the Glories swept the sky;
As the Northlights gleamed and curved and streamed, and the bottle of "hooch" was dry.
The new arrivals are here, like clockwork it seems. A strange occurrence that the natives haven't missed. They don't have answers but following support and encouragement from some of the older arrivals, they have been looking into it. If they notice anything odd, they post it to the bulletin board and they're working as hard as ever to help. Settling in is easier this time around, smoother, as everyone is more prepared than before. The first few days go well, one of the natives finds a patch of wild berries and makes fresh jam - serves it with breakfast until it runs out. There's a nice breeze that night, not too hot and not too cold. The stars twinkle and the moon is full, a pleasant atmosphere rolls through the community as everyone falls asleep.
Everyone wakes to the soft sounds of birds chirping. There's a light fog, windows misted over, and abruptly, it goes quiet. The only way to see outside is to open the door and those curious
OOC: Removing the threat, these creatures, is possible in a few ways. They have a weakness for water, which slows them down and shuts them up. They can be killed, the same as any normal animal might. Or they can be captured, something tied around their bills to silence them. Unfortunately, only a few will survive being caught alive ( we randomized out of the twelve houses - 5, 1, 2, 12, and Private Housing (Sora) and the Permanent Apartments ) and can be kept for study. The players in each house can decide what they want to do with them or use the comment below if they want to hand it over. As a side note, the dead ones can be kept too.
Alone or Together
Content Warnings: Poisoning
Themes: Plot
Up until now everything around here has been, well, pleasant. Recently certain things have become unpleasant. Now, it seems to me that the first thing we have to do is to separate out the things that are pleasant from the things that are unpleasant.
The natives have been up front about those that came through the Reset Room before. Some left, some didn't survive, and a few now call themselves natives. The above message lights up everyone's devices ( username - lamar ) but all ways to respond are disabled. A follow up message comes from Constance, explaining that they don't know how the message has been sent due to the fact that Lamar has been dead for over a decade. That night at dinner, the set up in town hall, the natives are abuzz talking about the mysterious message. Food is passed out. Drinks are had.
Before the first person leaves the hall, a plume of red dust sprays out from an old vent near the floor boards and fills the room. Quickly, all color is leached from the world. Every person is now color blind, seeing everything in varying shades of black, white, and grey as they cough and choke, trying to clear the dust from their faces and mouths. Was this Lamar? Was this the person who rigged up the noise machine in Verdel Square? What did the message mean?
OOC: The effects will fade after twenty four hours. All arrivals, new and old, plus all natives will be effected. For each character, one person will still be in color. Players can decide who this is. A friend, lover, enemy, one of the natives.
OOC
From your mods:
Please be mindful of content - if something triggery comes up or if it goes up a rating to say, something sexy, mark your threads in the subject line. We're very flexible and allow any material; we just want our players to be respectful of each other. If you have questions, pp the mod account, use the faq or comment to the appropriate post below. Have fun!
no subject
the knitting comment does draw a faint flicker of a smirk out of him though, pulling at the corner of his mouth for the briefest of moments before it's gone again. he'd be miserable at knitting, even moreso than he is at fishing.
thomas thumbs out a response. ]
I don't fish.
[ that's the simple explanation for his lack of skill and interest. if he's ever been fishing a day in his life, then he doesn't remember it, wckd having wiped everything from his memory that could have hinted at his life before waking up in the glade.
he pauses, then taps out an addition to his first remark, looking up with the ghost of a hint of amusement hiding near the corners of his eyes. ]
Knitting seems like it would be drier.
no subject
He let out a little breath -- not quite loud enough to be an actual laugh, but close. Even if it was raining, he didn't feel like much like taking his chances. ]
Yeah, and comfier, long as you ain't allergic to wool.
I'm Majima.
[ He held his hand out for the rod. Even if Thomas wasn't terribly interested in fishing, Majima was sort of curious about the state of his hook and bait. Had the locals coached him at all, or just dropped some gear on him and told him to haul out to the river? ]
Lend me that for a sec?
no subject
majima. the name is instantly familiar to thomas, even though the two of them have never met before now. newt had mentioned the name, back when they'd first found each other in the reset room and were exchanging what little information they'd managed to gather thus far. he'd made a note to find out more about this man his friend had been talking to, pick his brain, get some answers when he found the chance to see him out, but it would seem that fate, or something like it, has brought the man to him.
thomas blinks, brow furrowed slightly as he hands over the rod. with both of his hands free, he pays no attention to anything majima might choose to do with the fishing pole, and types out a series of questions instead, before holding his device out for majima, giving it a little shake to get his attention. forget fishing for a minute, dude. ]
You know about the theater? The one they're guarding, supposedly with dead bodies inside?
no subject
Majima didn't want to talk about it by signing -- who knew who might 'overhear' him talking? He didn't even want to let on that they were talking about it. In fact, he kiiinda just wanted to fish.
So he cast the line back out with a flick of his wrist, then braced it against a nearby post so he could slip his device out of his pocket. ]
Don't look squirrelly about it, alright? Just act like we're talkin' about fishing.
no subject
and it would seem like that chance is right now.
thomas waits patiently, despite his piqued interest, and does his best to appear casual, which is actually fairly easy for him. he can be aloof when he needs to be, invisible to an extent when necessary, just as easily as he can be present and aggressive. whatever it takes to survive, really.
he nods subtly, then types out his own response, casually glancing up in the middle to look out towards the line in the water as if he really gives a damn about fishing at all right now. ]
Yeah, sure. How much can you tell me?
[ thomas already knows pretty much everything he told newt, but that doesn't mean there isn't anything else majima could tell him, stuff he may have failed (or purposely decided not) to tell newt. ]
no subject
Not too much. They repainted the signs recently, but unfortunately, they're still on the place all hours. Mind controlling the guards is out. No one up top keeping watch, but there's also no way in from above, either.
Oh yeah, I guess I should've mentioned -- the reason we think they're keepin' bodies there was because one of us followed them carrying an actual body in. And you know, not to the cemetery.
It was after the Eiffel Tower trip.
no subject
Mind control. Like brain washing?
Has anyone tried finding a way in from below? Tunnels, basement entrances? How many guards, and are they armed? With what?
no subject
[ Majima would describe the basic layout of the theater, but the overall conclusion was pretty clear: it was tightly-guarded, and other entrances did not appear to be an option. Were they armed?
Kanyeshrug ask the mods. ]
no subject
thomas absently chews the inside of his cheek and tries not to think about how he knows so little about this place, how he ended up here, who's really in charge. he types out his response, then glances up with a slightly furrowed brow. ]
What's his name?
no subject
[ Lord knew Majima didn't have a problem chatting with criminals, but he had negative patience for insincerity. Also, was a decent conversation asking too much? Some of you guys, man. ]
But it's not like he's the only guy with weird powers around this place. Like magic? None of that shit exists where I'm from.
no subject
magic, though. that's interesting. and kind of questionable and slightly unbelievable but thomas has come face to face with quiet a few unbelievable things, so he's not as opposed to the idea of magic existing as one might expect him to be. ]
Pretty sure it doesn't exist where I'm from, either. [ but not a whole lot of anything still exists where he's from, so. ] Anyone I should know about?
no subject
Among the locals, probably the most important person to know is Constance. She used to be the speaker for the community, but she stepped down pretty recently to let two others take charge instead. That'd be Teddy and that hot dog guy.
Tony and F.R.I.D.A.Y. are the ones to ask about tech stuff. You might also wanna talk to the androids -- 9S, 2B, and A2. They're programmed to be helpful to humans or somethin' like that, and they're super fuckin' strong.
Aside from that, guess it depends on what ya want.
jesus my typos in the last tag I'M SORRY
Hot dog guy?
[ the rest he can mull over later, share with newt if newt doesn't already know all of this - and he assumes that he doesn't, because newt would mentioned it to him already.
thomas just happens to glance up and out towards the water at the same time the bobber dips below the surface. his brows lift a little, and he gestures with a subtle hand motion, just in case majima isn't paying attention. ]
judges u
There was a flash of silver in the water -- a brief splash as something dark broke the surface but briefly.
This is your life now, buddy. Aren't you glad. ]
Tells everyone his name is hot dog. It's a nickname.
no subject
thomas does as majima gestures and starts to reel the line in, trying to shift his focus from the small mountain of questions he has to the task at hand. if fishing didn't require so much patience and standing around and was composed of only this — the struggle between man and (small, not so threatening) beast — thomas would probably enjoy it a little more.
it doesn't take him terribly long to wind the fish in, and in just over a minute, he's got the pole in one hand and the line in his other, holding it up a little as the fish flops around on the hook. it's a small accomplishment, and half if not most of the credit goes to majima, but there might be a faint little burst of pride somewhere in thomas' chest. ]
no subject
[ Majima asked, by virtue of turning his own device around and showing it to Thomas. Like come on Thomas, look at this poor gasping animal. Did you have a bucket to put him in? Were you just going to leave him... hanging?
puts on sunglasses ]
I got a knife if ya need it.
[ Majima was simply going to assume Thomas knew what he needed to do unless proven otherwise. Surely the locals had given him a crash course...? ]