monstertruckers (
monstertruckers) wrote in
memestertrucks2025-01-01 12:01 am
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Entry tags:
JANUARY TDM
After tumbling through shadow you find yourself in a shrouded, ruined garage. It’s full of shattered windows and broken mechanical equipment; watch out for shards on the floor, in between the strange symbols scrawled into the ground. Outside the daylight is fading; night is rolling in, and there’s just a few dying lights flickering on and off. It’s going to be hard to see in here and avoid bumping into things and people, if you don’t get outside soon.
Beyond the rundown garage is an overgrown gas station surrounded by thick, wetland forest. Starlight is streaming through the trees, along with light from a broken moon. The one thing that isn’t overgrown with plants is a large Convoy of vehicles, parked right underneath the station canopy.
01: START UP
The Convoy looks like a cross between a semi truck and a train; there’s no one at the front, but there’s still power humming through the entire Convoy. It’s also the most hospitable thing in sight. Why not make yourself at home a little? You just have to chase that eerie, empty feeling since there’s no one else present.
Alternately, there are the cars scattered around the Convoy; all of them in better shape than the gas station. And some of them looking and feeling almost like they might belong to you. That feeling is only increased, when you see there’s a key to the car nearby. Perhaps the key is already in the ignition, on the dashboard… It may have even been on your person, ever since you woke up in that garage. Either way, you have the keys to the vehicle now.
…But there’s a few rough edges on these vehicles. Flat tires, cracked windows and mirrors, maybe some stuck doors and locks; all of them the sort of thing that requires two pairs of hands and supplies. The garage can take care of the supplies… Now it’s just a matter of finding some extra hands.
Alternately, there are the cars scattered around the Convoy; all of them in better shape than the gas station. And some of them looking and feeling almost like they might belong to you. That feeling is only increased, when you see there’s a key to the car nearby. Perhaps the key is already in the ignition, on the dashboard… It may have even been on your person, ever since you woke up in that garage. Either way, you have the keys to the vehicle now.
…But there’s a few rough edges on these vehicles. Flat tires, cracked windows and mirrors, maybe some stuck doors and locks; all of them the sort of thing that requires two pairs of hands and supplies. The garage can take care of the supplies… Now it’s just a matter of finding some extra hands.
02: RUIN EXPLORATION
The ruined gas station and garage are the only man-made structures around, and have seen better days. The store still holds packaged food, and tepid drinks of all sorts. The garage has old mechanical equipment for working on cars, along with that strange summoning circle.
There's also a giant tree bursting through the gas station roof. And clinging to its branches, half melted into the surface, are metallic bodies. Graffiti is spray painted onto the tree, reading ‘avoid the Husks.’
Those who ignore the warning and get closer hear a faint hum coming off those bodies. It’s almost like whispers, though it’s impossible to make out any clear words. Some Husks are clutching supplies in metal fists. For a few unlucky new arrivals, those Husks might even be holding the keys to their vehicles.
Making direct contact with the Husks intensifies the hum, and the whispers begin to form into pained cries, and give the impression of something rummaging through their thoughts; trying to pry out things that hurt Drifters, and reflecting those hurtful things on the bodies of the Husks for anyone to see.
There's also a giant tree bursting through the gas station roof. And clinging to its branches, half melted into the surface, are metallic bodies. Graffiti is spray painted onto the tree, reading ‘avoid the Husks.’
Those who ignore the warning and get closer hear a faint hum coming off those bodies. It’s almost like whispers, though it’s impossible to make out any clear words. Some Husks are clutching supplies in metal fists. For a few unlucky new arrivals, those Husks might even be holding the keys to their vehicles.
Making direct contact with the Husks intensifies the hum, and the whispers begin to form into pained cries, and give the impression of something rummaging through their thoughts; trying to pry out things that hurt Drifters, and reflecting those hurtful things on the bodies of the Husks for anyone to see.
03: MONSTER ATTACK
The night grows darker, and the shadows grow deeper. And from those shadows comes the glint of something moving across the Husks, rippling over the metal… And breaking it apart in a flurry of too sharp claws and teeth. That’s when the radio chooses to come on in another mess of static.
Be careful- Keep your fear and rage in check- Calls the monsters- We need the shield up-
The warning comes too late as monsters arrive. Some human-like but with razor teeth mouths that stretch from face to groin; others resembling alligators with bloated proportions and jaws that spit lightning; and still others where the vegetation has come to life, sporting thorn covered appendages.
The Pisaca monsters act as shock troopers, wearing the Convoy down with venomous bites and debilitating howls, before the heavy and brutish alligators bull in, using their bulk and electric attacks to obliterate what’s left. The capparwires scurry in the periphery, taking cheap shots with thorny vines and sparking electricity where they can. It’s a task to keep the monsters at bay until the generator fires up. Especially when one last enemy makes an appearance…
Be careful- Keep your fear and rage in check- Calls the monsters- We need the shield up-
The warning comes too late as monsters arrive. Some human-like but with razor teeth mouths that stretch from face to groin; others resembling alligators with bloated proportions and jaws that spit lightning; and still others where the vegetation has come to life, sporting thorn covered appendages.
The Pisaca monsters act as shock troopers, wearing the Convoy down with venomous bites and debilitating howls, before the heavy and brutish alligators bull in, using their bulk and electric attacks to obliterate what’s left. The capparwires scurry in the periphery, taking cheap shots with thorny vines and sparking electricity where they can. It’s a task to keep the monsters at bay until the generator fires up. Especially when one last enemy makes an appearance…
03-A: MIRRORMIC
There's as a metallic shiver along one of the remaining Husks, and a strange ringing whisper in the ears. The next moment, the Husk breaks open in a gleaming pool of quicksilver. That quicksilver catches reflections, and molds itself into a darker copy of a Drifter.
The mirror monster whispers faults and secrets at the reflected Drifter, and anyone close by. It tries to goad Drifters into an attack. And when struck, the mirror monster plays its second trick; whatever damage it takes is reflected back onto the Drifter as a transformation. An injury to the arm transforms the Drifter's arm, and so on.
It's possible to banish this monster through direct lights shone on it from a car, flashlight, or magic… But such action needs to be swift, before the Mirrormic completely changes its Drifter.
03-B: BOMBADGY BOMBARDMENT
Before, during and even a little after the monster attack, there’s an extra presence scurrying around the vehicles, snuffling and barking when startled. A band of chunky, raccoon-esque monsters known as the bombadgy are raiding anything that looks like it could be food storage… And this includes vehicles!
The bombadgy’s claws are deft and sharp with tearing through windows and door seams. These creatures are a touch skittish and won’t attack unless provoked. They also can expel a flammable gas… And this means they can explode if sufficiently spooked or stressed. This also means that they can be treated as living bombs, and be lobbed at other threats if needed.
04: WIND DOWN
During the monster attack, there’s changes gripping the Convoy, and especially the people in it. It might feel like your control is getting worn away by the second… At least until something in the trucks starts to whirr to life. It’s a soft enough noise, little more than a hum as something blooms out of the engines. It fast turns into a shield that envelops the Convoy in a shimmering, glowing dome.
And while it might not be enough to reverse those changes, it can at least stop them from growing any worse. Give you a moment of breathing space to adjust to everything that’s happened, and give you some measure of clarity and control. There’s time to breathe and mend now. Take stock of one’s injuries and changes.
But there’s a few strange surprises still waiting, it seems. Because the corpses of the monsters begin to disintegrate, like they are bleeding out motes of sickly light. Light that you quickly absorb; it has the side effect of lessening pain, even mending wounds… Though it might make you feel a bit off. Maybe a little more excitable, maybe a little more irritable, or maybe expressing a certain odd psychological quirk. Still, that sudden surge should pass in about an hour or so; just need to keep it together until then. Perhaps with a little company.
And while it might not be enough to reverse those changes, it can at least stop them from growing any worse. Give you a moment of breathing space to adjust to everything that’s happened, and give you some measure of clarity and control. There’s time to breathe and mend now. Take stock of one’s injuries and changes.
But there’s a few strange surprises still waiting, it seems. Because the corpses of the monsters begin to disintegrate, like they are bleeding out motes of sickly light. Light that you quickly absorb; it has the side effect of lessening pain, even mending wounds… Though it might make you feel a bit off. Maybe a little more excitable, maybe a little more irritable, or maybe expressing a certain odd psychological quirk. Still, that sudden surge should pass in about an hour or so; just need to keep it together until then. Perhaps with a little company.
05: CAMP
A screen in the Convoy flickers to life. The image isn't visible through a snowfield of static. Same with the audio:
“Still… Alive? Good. Connection- Can’t hear you. Can't talk. Convoy will- take you closer to Nirvana.”
After that, the connection is dropped, leaving a collection of text:
I’m sorry. I have no answers for you. But you’re still alive. You’re not as broken as the rest of the world. When the sun rises, this Convoy and all the cars around it will start moving North towards Nirvana. If you want answers, and to stay as close to human as you can… I suggest you stay with the Convoy. Good luck.
A last alert flashes across the screen: “TESTING LOCAL NETWORK CONNECTION.” And then… Music starts to play on the speakers. Mellow guitar and brass music that’s at odds with all the weird that’s happened recently, but perhaps just the thing to relax to.
“Still… Alive? Good. Connection- Can’t hear you. Can't talk. Convoy will- take you closer to Nirvana.”
After that, the connection is dropped, leaving a collection of text:
I’m sorry. I have no answers for you. But you’re still alive. You’re not as broken as the rest of the world. When the sun rises, this Convoy and all the cars around it will start moving North towards Nirvana. If you want answers, and to stay as close to human as you can… I suggest you stay with the Convoy. Good luck.
A last alert flashes across the screen: “TESTING LOCAL NETWORK CONNECTION.” And then… Music starts to play on the speakers. Mellow guitar and brass music that’s at odds with all the weird that’s happened recently, but perhaps just the thing to relax to.
MICRO ENCOUNTERS:
PLEASE NOTE! These are small bits of set dressing for players to include in threads if they wish, rather than full fledged prompts or events. You may handwave your exploration of these areas, or thread them out.
Race Track: There’s a race track that winds around the gas station! It’s a bit threadbare in places and little more than a mossy and muddy trail. But it’s still a race track that weaves under and over trees, and seems like a good place to test new wheels.
Gone Fishing: The gas station area eventually turns into the start of a swamp; that explains where the alligators came from. It may be possible to do a little bit of fishing, though the fish are just as weird as everything else. Still edible though. Swimming in the swamp is not advised. The alligator monsters and fish tend to bite back.
Spray Paint Messages: The paint on the trees and gas station is starting to fade and wash out, but can still be legible; most of it contains messages warning about the end of the world, prayers to the heavens for mercy, and dire warnings about husks and something called “moon warps.”
no subject
it takes a few paranoid seconds for overrun eyes to come to a coherent standstill. having come across a few staggering souls as is, jayce still feels as if he's become too feral in that ravine. his heart pounds when he sees people, and when he thinks to speak, it's like his brain short circuits. he doesn't know what to say, for one who'd spend years as a poster boy, giving speeches to crowds and playing politics.
he's glad the other man, who doesn't look all that worse than him, similar even, speaks first. breathlessly, jayce's eyelids flutter, and he gives a resigned, quiet series of nods in return. half as a hello, and half as self comfort. as long as they're not trying to kill each other or steal their meals, things should be fine. he won't need his hammer.
once he has his gaze honed in on the symbol, it's all he can focus on. ]
—W-wait.
no subject
The patterns draw on an old pressure in the back of his mind, an unsettling familiarity. It is the sort of sight he would expect to find only in the Dreamlands, or in worse and darker worlds. ]
What? [ His tone is wary to the point of rudeness. Just as Jayce is staring at his sigil, John is still fixed upon that hammer. ]
no subject
jayce is all too aware of the tension, on both ends. before getting to what he wants, ground rules. ]
I won't swing, [ he breathes, his voice a rasp of harmed vocal chords, and adds, because he doesn't want to be a liar, ] If you don't.
no subject
John doesn't like the hammer. It reminds him too much of what he is trying to repress. ]
Then consider it a truce. [ His tone rises in an attempt at warmth, but there is a subtly inhuman warp to his voice, a tinny distortion. ] I'm sure our goals can align.
[ He takes a half-step forward in the spirit of tenuous friendship, even with the metallic echo of his words still ringing in the air. ]
no subject
goͦaͣl. the knife twists and jayce's mind bursts into an incomprensible kaleidoscope of flashes from a distorted future, squeezing a cry from his throat and launching his weakened steps into a display case. the corruption bleeds in as it all falls with crashes and pangs of rusted metal. jayce staggers and grips for the hilt of his weapon, mostly to steady his crumbling posture, to protect himself— ]
Stop—
[ jayce makes the mistake of looking directly at john and the mark, the horrors behind it beckoning to the perversion of the arcane that he hosts like lost kin. the survivor's breathing goes ragged and quick, his senses unsure if he should fly, fight or vomit— the flare of a reborn, hexcorized being splits its face open in jayce's eyes and makes his gasping bare his teeth. he can't tell what is real and what is not, one reminder pulling at another and another, making him claw at his own face— i won't fail i swear it.
the mercury hammer snarls , its wings battering like a caged animal, a guard dog spurred to recognize a threat and react. bite. jayce is an extension to it, in his panic, dragging the massive head until it is between them, until he lifts it to the blue glow of his hex-infected wrist that hums the same, vile song of awakening.
he pulls a lever, and the hammer unbolts, pulls apart, distorts the very air it seems to breathe and rotting the oxygen with magical decay. it exposes an otherwordly core, and as it ripples with the anxiety of release, it is aimed at the cause. ]
no subject
So he recognizes the danger only by the sound that hitches Jayce's throat, the clang and clatter of the display case going over. When Jayce looks up at him, John's expression is frozen with alarm. He is already backing away, tensed to run. Arthur, he's thinking, something is wrong—
Then the fucking hammer unfolds, bares its livid heart at him, and John knows death when he sees it. ]
Fucking hell— [ he snarls, and runs. ]
no subject
and now? he still perceives a threat that will eventually kill him. it is one less extortion to join the future fray. it is survival in his fractured psyche.
the core ondulates, rips the spaces it occupies and blasts away the entire storefront. anything caught in the blast will not simply disintegrate— it will warp the very space it has caused a crater in with its ugly impact. debris floats where its tendrils have kissed, splashes of rotting color infecting rocks, floorboards, and shattering windows now in continuous suspension.
if john was caught in it, he'd feel like that nasty hammer just took the biggest metaphysical crunch, shake and throw and him. ]
no subject
Reality tears to shreds behind him, his breath heaves in stolen lungs, and John wishes he'd learned faster. ]
Jesus—
[ He scrambles over fallen shelves, crashes through merchandise, throws himself out the door. He puts a wall between himself and that terrible hammer. It doesn't matter: the wall gives like wet paper, and John is struck by something like a living meteor.
The world breaks. He knows only humming fractal decay, vision blanked by a colour out of space.
Rubble. For a moment there is ringing quiet. John becomes aware of his body only by its hurts: blood streams from a cut at his temple, and when he tries to push himself up onto both palms, one arm gives beneath his weight. He groans, rattles a cough, stirs in the carcass of the storefront. In a field of iridescent corruption, he is the only thing left intact. ]
no subject
i can't let you leave.
from the floating arch of debris that curls inward from the point of impact, some stones glitching in and out of their damaged reality— the ragged man steps out, his feet heavy and his gait uneven. the metal of his brace squeaks with every bit of weight he serves on it before limping it off. the hammer's head drags on the floor behind him, distorting the earth it carves a path into. ]
I can't let you leave, [ a repeated whisper, dazed and caught in a cycle too vicious to get out on his own— so he makes his way over to john. ]
no subject
John scrapes himself together. His vision resolves back down to a human spectrum, except for the spots and flickers of eighth-color in his eyes. His thoughts resolve back into English, the rhythm he would put into Arthur's mind: The man approaches for another blow— for a finishing blow. His eyes are wild. He... limps heavily. There is a flimsy metal brace on one leg.
Perhaps it's the monster in him, or perhaps it's the human. John doesn't try to run. He twists just enough to put himself into position, his knees tucked free of the rubble, his heels to the corrupted ground. He allows Jayce to rise, looming, above him. He waits for the hammer to come up. ]
You... [ That metallic voice twists with contempt. ] ...liar.
[ He kicks hard for that spindly knee brace, hungry for the bend or snap of metal, and rolls free. Given an instant's reprieve, he'll tackle Jayce with impossible weight in his skinny frame. His only goal is to wrench that hammer away. ]
no subject
when the men scuffle to the ground, survival above all kicks in for jayce; he struggles violently with locked jaws and flailing limbs, the hammer between their skirmish. liar. he could feel his worst offenses clawing their way up his mind, glitching his frame the same way the hammer would bend its way through space-time.
that may give john time to take away the metal, but as soon as it is taken from jayce's hands, it goes unbelievably heavy. almost impossible to lift without both impressive strength and sturdy foundation. it goes feather light with the surge of energy from the hexgem in his wrist, but without it, it's a boulder. ]
ancient endtag
He takes the opportunity. John kicks hard for Jayce's bad leg and rolls free into the rubble. He's up and backing away in the frantic, panicked scramble of a hunted animal. ]
Leave— us— alone.
[ He does what he and Arthur have always done: he ducks behind cover, and fucking runs. ]