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memestertrucks2025-05-15 04:31 pm
monstertruckers) wrote in memestertrucks2025-05-15 04:31 pm
Entry tags:
MAY TDM
Things are a little stranger than usual at the gas station and garage. Namely that gravity just isn't working as it should. Objects float, pieces of the floor float... Even unlucky new arrivals can also find themselves floating! It's going to be a challenge to get around without any scrapes or scratches... Though at least there's what looks like a hospital nearby? Granted, it's an upside down hospital, but it's better than nothing.
01: SUMMONING CIRCLE
Drifters come to with an odd floating sensation hooked into their stomachs, and instead of laying on the concrete find themselves drifting a foot or two above the floor. An unfortunate few may be stuck on the ceiling. Whether they crash down hard into the floor (and the various vials, daggers, and broken glass scattered about) or remain floating in the air is a coin toss.
Still, it might be best to lend a hand with pulling them back to the ground, and hoping gravity will work as normal in another breath or two.
Once they make their way out, they can see a gas station and garage located in the midst of strange, floating rocks… And an upside down hospital close by, for those who had a rougher landing.
Still, it might be best to lend a hand with pulling them back to the ground, and hoping gravity will work as normal in another breath or two.
Once they make their way out, they can see a gas station and garage located in the midst of strange, floating rocks… And an upside down hospital close by, for those who had a rougher landing.
02: START UP
New arrivals will have a similar experience to before; a Convoy waiting for them, and a collection of vehicles, one of which feels like it belongs to them. The key to the vehicle may already be in the ignition, on the dashboard… It may have even been on their person, ever since they woke up in that garage. Either way, Drifters 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 (sometimes floating) supplies… Now it’s just a matter of finding some extra hands.
And hopefully no one's vehicle has decided to float. But one can never be sure in a place like this.
…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 (sometimes floating) supplies… Now it’s just a matter of finding some extra hands.
And hopefully no one's vehicle has decided to float. But one can never be sure in a place like this.
03: HUSKS AND HAUNTS
The inverted hospital seems to have trouble deciding the exact formation of its hallways, whether the new arrivals should be walking on the ceiling, floors, or walls. But one thing that is certain: this place isn’t entirely deserted. Warnings of “Beware the Husks” have been spray painted on the walls. Metallic bodies line those same halls, some of them broken open. A wet trail leads from the broken Husks to the rafters… Where several odd monsters wait to drop down. Some look like they’ve merged with the hospital equipment, while others look like they’ve been cobbled together from different body parts. And all of them look ready to turn the newcomers into a corpse, or part of a specimen collection.
Strange, malformed chimeric creatures that are Unknown stalk the hallways. Unknowns come in three different colors, red aligned with fire, green with poison, and purple with lightning.
Adding to that are the various screens flickering on, and diagnose new arrivals as infected. The screens declare the infection seems to be contained, but requires further study… And if the monsters aren't enough to worry about, there’s also the restraint systems trying to activate and tie the new arrivals down.
Strange, malformed chimeric creatures that are Unknown stalk the hallways. Unknowns come in three different colors, red aligned with fire, green with poison, and purple with lightning.
Adding to that are the various screens flickering on, and diagnose new arrivals as infected. The screens declare the infection seems to be contained, but requires further study… And if the monsters aren't enough to worry about, there’s also the restraint systems trying to activate and tie the new arrivals down.
04: TESTING (CW: Needles)
The deeper someone plunges into the hospital, the more the building reacts to them. More defenses are deployed, treating them as thieves or intruders. Traps and monsters alike wait for them, with syringes melded into the forms of attackers, or lining places where someone might step or reach for. The syringes make a quick bite on skin… But it’s only a few minutes later where the effects become clear. Something in those syringes is now in the blood and forcing monster transformations. There might be an antidote amongst the supplies… Or the newcomers might need to rely on each other, in order to stay anchored.
The needles can also force temporary Swarm traits, along with:
+Group Mind: compelled to link thoughts with other Drifters, to share emotions, memories, and achieve cohesion.
+An increasing reliance on telepathy/empathy/etc in place of speech.
+Increasing collectivist mindset. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few; this becomes more evident during high stress situations.
+Compelled to hunt and share their prey with others.
+Gravity Affinity: If possessing wings or the ability to wall climb, may freely hunt/traverse corrupted gravity areas.
The needles can also force temporary Swarm traits, along with:
+Group Mind: compelled to link thoughts with other Drifters, to share emotions, memories, and achieve cohesion.
+An increasing reliance on telepathy/empathy/etc in place of speech.
+Increasing collectivist mindset. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few; this becomes more evident during high stress situations.
+Compelled to hunt and share their prey with others.
+Gravity Affinity: If possessing wings or the ability to wall climb, may freely hunt/traverse corrupted gravity areas.
05: LONG WAY DOWN
A portion of the gas station breaks away with groan and a rumble. And it is slowly pulled up and up, taking a portion of new comers with it! They (and anyone watching) will need to act fast, as gravity starts to go weird the further they rise. They’ll need to find a way back down, taking any supplies from the now-floating garage that they can grab.
What’s more, they are drifting closer to the broken moon, and that seems to be having a strange effect on those stranded on the new floating ruin. They may start to feel their control fray, and their forms shift, the higher they rise.
In terms of getting back down, there’s a handful of tow lines in the ruin that might work as ropes. There’s also a few pieces of rock that are floating up more slowly, and could work as stairs back down… Or there’s just jumping and falling fifty feet and hoping for the best.
What’s more, they are drifting closer to the broken moon, and that seems to be having a strange effect on those stranded on the new floating ruin. They may start to feel their control fray, and their forms shift, the higher they rise.
In terms of getting back down, there’s a handful of tow lines in the ruin that might work as ropes. There’s also a few pieces of rock that are floating up more slowly, and could work as stairs back down… Or there’s just jumping and falling fifty feet and hoping for the best.
06: PSYCHIC ECHOES
There's one last quirk to this area; a few scattered bits of odd plantlife, and the odd dead brain monster. While these things aren't a threat on their own (beyond being unnerving) they still pack a psychic punch; mainly in the form of temporary psychic abilities.
It's possible that after coming in contact with either plants or corpses, newcomers will find themselves gifted with either empathy (projecting or receiving emotions) telepathy, OR the ability to share their dreams with others, and having their dreams influenced by others in turn. This effect fades in just a day or so, but is still capable of causing mishaps.
It's possible that after coming in contact with either plants or corpses, newcomers will find themselves gifted with either empathy (projecting or receiving emotions) telepathy, OR the ability to share their dreams with others, and having their dreams influenced by others in turn. This effect fades in just a day or so, but is still capable of causing mishaps.
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.
Broadcast: The garage contains a few burnt out monitors. But a handful of them are playing a message over and over again on loop, filled with static. It’s a recording of important looking people in lab coats advising people to remain indoors and avoiding all objects falling from the sky. Especially “moon shards.” They insist that they are working to contain and cure the infection, but the safest action is to remain inside.
Warped Air: As seen in Long Way Down, the air overhead has strange warped pockets in it. There seem to be slightly different shards hanging suspended in the air, looking more silvery than the surrounding rocks. Almost like it could have fallen from the broken moon overhead.
Medical supplies: Most of the medical supplies found in the hospital seem to consist of healing salves and potions, a handful of healing herbs, and a few antidotes for poison or sickness. As for reverting transformations… It’s advised that new comers be careful of taking any experimental medicine. It may revert a change. It may also leave them hallucinating nightmares and fears, and they’ll be wanting someone close by to help administer the drug.
no subject
He frowns up at the ceiling, needing a second to figure out if it's a skylight or a painting, and then sizes up the seating. It does look decadently comfortable, by the standards either of them is used to. That's not such a bad thing to have around here. Of course, the convoy itself has seating and bedding that put anything from home to absolute shame, and Danse isn't the only one who finds that weird enough to steer clear of it and sleep out in his truck instead, but as an occasional treat...
He sits down opposite Deacon, sinking into the cushion with a surprised little hum of pleasure. "Well, I'm appropriating this one until you kick me out, so you'll have to make do with any of the others." He leaves his feet off the bench, though.
no subject
Deacon arches off of the seat to pat at his pockets, stopping when he finds something he's looking for and fishing it out before flopping back down: a semi-crushed pack of cigarettes.
"Trade you one indulgence for another. You smoke?"
He's already pulling one from the pack and fitting it between his own lips, but then holds it out to Danse in offering. It is not beneath him to christen this absurd vehicle with the stink of nicotine, but he'll definitely open the windows... there seems to even be a skylight amongst the blue sky ceiling. Once Danse accepts his trade, Deacon hops up to do just that before lighting anything.
"So what do you think of her now?" he asks, grunting as he pushes open the skylight window. "Pretty sweet, if you ask me. I'm thinking I can fit a rack for weapons on that wall over there... maybe throw out some of these empty seats for a mattress and then, WHAM! Mobile safehouse."
no subject
(He can pay Deacon back if they ever get home, he supposes. Nora owes him a whole damn carton of Grey Tortoises, if she's inherited the ones that used to be on his desk along with the rest of his worldly possessions on the Prydwen. There's no sense thinking too hard about any of that here.)
Deacon's plans for the noble Wienermobile get a sharp side-eye, because 'safehouse' is precisely the kind of terminology that sets off the mental I should be doing something about this alarms that Danse hasn't yet had time to take the batteries out of. A safehouse for who? he thinks, realizes it's probably clearly audible, decides he doesn't care if it is or not, but doesn't externalize it.
"A weapon rack would be a good thing to prioritize," he concedes, sizing up the space. "Not that the mattress wouldn't be, but the convoy has beds if you don't mind bunking with strangers for a while. You're going to want backup guns first."
no subject
"Could probably pry the grid off of any old garage wall and mount it there. If it works for heavy tools, it works for guns." he continues on his way back to his seat, fishing out his lighter before retaking it. He lights his cigarette and then passes the lighter to Danse, exhaling that first pull as he speaks.
"Mmm, pass on bunking with strangers. I've shared the occasional flea-infested mattress when desperation called for it, but I'm not big on spooning."
no subject
The fact that it's been answered aloud when he hadn't said it aloud also feels comfortable enough, after so many days of things just Being Like That around the camp. He'd almost venture to say it's a perfectly acceptable means of communication when people want it to be, as opposed to accidental eavesdropping. Danse has taken entirely too well to the influence of the swarmlike hivemind, and he'll keep finding it weirdly natural unless someone actually points out that it's happening to him. In any case, his approval of the tool grid idea is likewise projected without him bothering to voice it, occupied as he is with lighting his own cigarette.
"It's not quite like that. There's some degree of privacy. Individual bedding compartments; I'll use them myself if it's raining." Or if he's ill, which has happened here to a far more serious extent than he'd ever experienced back home--nobody has had perfectly smooth sailing with this unavoidable mutating energy; the lucky ones just seem to be suffering less than others. He's given Deacon some sense of that already, at least.
"Honestly, you're better off just stripping a bed and taking the blanket. They're soft enough to use as bedrolls. I tried to use one for its intended purpose and I woke up thinking someone was smothering me."
no subject
"Huh." he acknowledges Danse's explanation, "Guess I'll check it out sometime." Maybe even take that suggestion, while he's at it. If these seats push back he'll sleep just fine on one of them.
"What makes you so confident someone wasn't?" he asks, just to be a shit. Maybe a stealth boy was involved. Or maybe Deacon is just paranoid.
no subject
"I think I can be trusted to discern the difference between an overstuffed duvet and an assassination attempt once I'm actually awake," he says. "In any case, don't start. I really am trying to trust these people as long as we're all in the same predicament, and it hasn't been an easy road."
He taps a bit more ash into the mug, and only then gives it a proper once-over, head tilting in the most canine gesture he's made since he started sprouting actual wolf parts. "What in the name of God--"
no subject
"You can't trust everyone," he mutters into his cigarette, his voice straining before his inhale. It's a hard truth about life, and one lesson he might instill on Danse yet. Or would be if the other man wasn't staring at that mug like a confused dog. Deacon's eyes follow Danse's to the insane slogan on their makeshift ashtray and huffs out a brief laugh, shaking his head.
"Don't look at me. I just got here."
no subject
It's a distraction from the more serious advice, and the thing is that Danse doesn't disagree with it. He knows Deacon means it. He knows why Deacon means it. It would be sage advice in the general wasteland, and maybe it still is here, too--Danse doesn't know everyone in the convoy as well as he probably should by now, and some of them might be deeply unsavory characters. But he still can't take it to heart the way he's meant to.
"I know I can't let my guard down around everyone. But paranoia has served me far worse here than giving the benefit of the doubt would have. I've learned that the hard way. And when I have needed assistance, there's always been someone willing to provide it. That's what I meant when I said that people cooperate well here. If anyone's doing it for some ulterior motive, that hasn't been evident."
no subject
Trust is a delicate, fickle thing. Deacon doesn't want to say it out loud, but Danse's history- joining the Brotherhood- makes his judgment of trust in general kind of weak in Deacon's eyes. It's all well and good that he's no longer part of it. That thrills him, but the fact that he was able to look at what they were asking of him and not question it makes Deacon side-eye everything being preached to him now even more. It's not Danse himself that Deacon finds untrustworthy as much as Danse's judgment of others... but Deacon is well past paranoid and has become something even worse. Something that there probably isn't even a word for in English. Maybe German. There's always some twenty-letter German word for everything.
"You'll have to forgive me for wanting to make my own calls there, pal." he mutters with an exhale. "Don't worry though, I'm great at learning from my own mistakes."
no subject
There's a little wave of stubborn defiance in response to the notion that his career choices should call his judgment into question, an of course you'd think so, a dismissive thought that Deacon and the rest of his shady compatriots would have a vested interest in discouraging people who want to bring their operations to light--but there's only so hard Danse can still dig his heels in about that when they both know exactly why his career had ended in flames and tears and shoot-to-kill orders, so he pushes it aside.
"I'm not trying to dictate anything here. You asked me what I thought, and this is my answer. I'm just trying to warn you against preemptively burning bridges like I did."
no subject
He waves off Danse's defense casually, shaking his head. "I know that. I wanted to know what you thought. It's just not my style." Trusting anyone, that is. Not burning bridges and entire interstates while he's at it.
no subject
From the moment I was taken in by the Brotherhood-- he can hear himself imploring Maxson, outside the listening post with Nora standing in front of him and Deacon lurking behind. Taken in, like a stray animal, like any other one of those single-named wastelanders who make up the East Coast Brotherhood's most fanatically loyal bread and butter, whatever rank and title they earn filling that empty starving void where a family name ought to be. Danse was one of dozens of those. Taken in by the Brotherhood, like he remembers being allowed to spend the occasional winter night sleeping on the floor inside a stranger's doorway, in the homeless orphaned trash-picking childhood that never fucking happened.
He'd blamed the Institute for that before he knew better, because in those first chaotic days before he'd thought anything out, it made enough sense to simply blame all of his misfortunes on them like the entire rest of the Commonwealth does. Everything wrong in his life could be attributed to pointless Institute cruelty, whether it made logical sense or not. He'd asked Nora why they couldn't have given him memories of parents, siblings, someone who loved him--why they had to make it all so gnawingly painful and lonely, if it was all made up anyway? He doesn't have any more of an answer to that now that he knows there's someone different to blame.
But he will blame the Railroad for it. And he'll be damned if he lets any one of them, Deacon included, judge him for finding brothers and sisters and elders where they refused to give him even the semblance of those. His thoughts might as well be a fire alarm for how audible they all are, and the way he rubs his temples to try and calm them doesn't actually help.
"You'll be fine, I'm sure. Though you won't have any alternatives to this group if you're not." He gets up, sensing that he's probably just about overstayed his welcome in the would-be safehouse--though if telepathy weren't involved, things might have sailed smoothly a bit longer.
no subject
That fire alarm rings deafening into Deacon's mind, but his poker face holds true. He doesn't react. He can't. But he'll certainly lie sleepless all night with a pit in his stomach over it later. That's his own burden. Danse is only one of the synths Deacon had liberated. Distantly, he wonders if they all curse him like this one does.
"I will," he echoes. "I'm used to flying solo, anyway."
He leans forward, snuffing out the cigarette into the broken mug. He won't ask Danse to leave, but he's not going to beg him to stay, either.
no subject
Not quite so angry as to stomp away without further ado, though. He pauses in the doorway as he goes.
"Let me know if you need a hand with the gun rack." He crushes his cigarette butt underfoot on the ground outside, and leaves.