(july intro log) WELCOME TO THE CONTAINMENT ZONE! (for real this time.)

[vestigemods]

JULY INTRO LOG

► PROMPT 1 ► WAKING UP

Whenever you're from or wherever you were, you awaken now with the mildest of headaches in-... oh, this is new. For some people, you wake in a cabin - in a bed, on the floor, amidst boxes in the basement - and for others, you wake up somewhere else entirely. Off in the woods. Between aisles in a run-down gas station. Lying on a branch ten feet up a local tree. Perhaps even on a leaky boat out on the middle of a lake. It's mid-morning, and across the nine square miles of containment zone, a little under two-dozen people are waking up just as you are. I'm sure you'll run into some of them soon enough.

This might be your first time waking up where you don't expect to be. If it is, consider yourself lucky to have missed what came before. For those have been through a Loop or three (or five or twelve), you'll find that waking this time feels different. It's as though you've woken from a dream - and that's what those memories feel like, trapped in the semi-tangible realm between dream and reality, though if pressed you can probably discern that they were undeniably real. (Or perhaps you can't - or perhaps some of the memories are missing altogether. This is hardly a precise science.)

Somewhere in your vicinity (in your hand, in your pocket, on your chest) is a smartphone, if you're able to recognize it as such. The models tend to vary, but they all share the capacity to connect to what seems to be an overarching network, able to connect to others with similar devices via text, voice calls, or even video messages.

But the phone is likely the least of your concerns, at least for now. More pressing is where exactly it is that you've awoken and whether or not you've woken up alone.

PROMPT 2 ► THE CABINS + LAKE

As many as a dozen cabins sit in the general vicinity of the lake, some along the shore and some a bit farther back in the woods. Perhaps you awoke in one, or perhaps you're stumbling into one after dragging yourself out of the lake or through a couple of miles of woods. Either way, you're in perhaps the best place you might have ended up. The cabin's amenities are sketchy but functional, and the kitchen is stocked with food...

And let's not forget about the pamphlets.

On at least a couple of nearby tables or countertops sit a handful of them, fanned for display. They're vividly colored, depicting what you might recognize as the landscape outside, and the title reads: THE CONTAINMENT ZONE AND YOU! Within these pamphlets, a conversationally cavalier voice explains a bit about the Containment Zone, which (as it turns out) you're stuck in right at this very moment.


"THE CONTAINMENT ZONE AND YOU", summarized


• Where am I?
  Earth. Well - an Earth. Definitely not your Earth. if that creates more questions than it answers, glance to your left and right and ask any follow-up questions to whomsoever seems least confused.


• Why am I here?
  To feed the elder gods with your death and/or suffering in order to prevent any more of an apocalypse than we already had.


• Can I leave?
  Voluntarily? No. Involuntarily? Probably not.


• What do you mean, 'death'??
  Oh, calm down. You'll come back.


• I have very important shit to be doing/people to be saving/weed to be smoking back home!
  Lucky for you: If you go back, we'll put you back right where and when you left off. You won't miss a thing.


• Isn't that how you break time!? I'm pretty sure that's how you break time.
  Only if you remember this place and/or what you've learned here when you get back. Which you won't.


• Supplies?
  Cabins and gas station.


• Cabins?
  Yours. Pick one.


• Lake?
  Safe. (For now.)


• Moon?
  Haunted.


• Who even are you?
  Call us the Technicians. Individual identities don't matter. We may give you sweets and toys but we're not your friends.


• Do you at least negotiate?
  We'll consider it. Depends on what you're asking for. And, of course, on what you have to offer.


• Wait! I'm (insert emotions) and have more questions!
  How unfortunate. Expect your next pamphlet in 4-6 weeks.




Well, that certainly is... something. Lots to discuss, lots to consider. If you're the get-right-to-business sort, that could easily occupy you for a good long while.

Alternatively: It's a hot day, and you've just ever-so-conveniently learned that the lake is 'safe (for now)'. Why not go for a dip to clear your head? The water is actually impressively clear, offering visual reassurance of the lack of abject horrors lurking below.

Those who do swim find that the lake is, as promised, mostly innocuous. 'Mostly' being the key phrase, as anyone who swims out close to the center will find it getting more and more difficult to stay on the surface. As if you're getting heavier and heavier, or your limbs are getting weaker and weaker. It isn't enough to drown you (probably), but you certainly might find yourself considering how peaceful it might be if you let yourself sink.

These thoughts are simple enough to push away in much the same way you might push through the heaviness of your limbs. One could consider it more a warning than anything: Even that which is 'safe' should be treated with proper caution. (Quick and senseless deaths are junk food to the elder gods - tasty but unsatisfying.)

PROMPT 3 ► THE GAS STATION

At the south end of the containment zone sits an old gas station, run-down and overgrown at first sight. It sits alongside a cracked asphalt road, one which (as you might discover) bisects the containment zone from the east wall to the west without a single other building in sight.

You may have woken up here, or perhaps you found it at the pamphlet's behest. Either way, it's a discovery that you'll thank yourself for many a time as throughout the next few months here, for reasons that become apparent the moment you step inside.

In sharp contrast with the outside, the inside of the gas station looks... well, like a functional gas station should. Floors and surfaces seem recently-wiped, shelves seem stocked and organized... It's enough that if you're familiar with gas stations as a concept, you might find yourself reflexively glancing around for an attendant.

But no attendant seems to be present. Just shelves and shelves of goods - perishables and nonperishables, first aid supplies and whatever else one might expect to find at such an out-of-the-way pit stop, all ready for the taking. You might even find an extra surprise. Oh, and let's not forget a nice array of THE CONTAINMENT ZONE AND YOU! pamphlets on the check-out counter, in case you missed them back at the cabins.

Maybe you encounter someone here - are they friend, or foe? Maybe they're as lost and confused as you are. Maybe they're reaching for that last fucking can of Spaghetti-Os and you're serious about your fucking Spaghetti-Os. At least one person is definitely waking up in a gas station fridge... Maybe you're lucky(?) individual who spots them and has to decide whether or not you've discovered a corpse where the soda should be. The world (or, at least, the gas station) is your oyster.

PROMPT 4 ► THE WOODS + BARRIER

The vast majority of the containment zone is covered in evergreen forest, populated with wildlife that look and act disarmingly normal. It may, in fact, be a nice quiet place to stroll in order to clear your head. While large swathes of the woods are moderately dense, there are a number of paths to make your way along should you choose to. Birds sing overhead, deer occasionally bound across the path ahead... If you didn't know any better, you might be able to forget that this isn't a normal stretch of woods somewhere not far from home.

But nothing in the containment zone is truly harmless. The blackberry bushes that line many a cabin (you remember, the ones that make your mouth and tongue go numb?) are out in force in the woods, and out here they're even more of an infernal menace: While the cabin variety only cause havoc when ingested, so much as a scratch from the woods variety's thorns will induce a tingling numb in the affected area that lasts for the better part of an hour.

And let's not forget the lovely field of "wildflowers" that definitely aren't not infested with poison ivy. It's a shame, really. The flowers themselves are quite pretty, an array of pastel blues and pinks and oranges. It's almost like a painting, if touching that painting happened to make you itch, burn, and blister for one-to-two weeks.

But why are we talking about flowers? What you're truly interested in is the containment zone barrier, aren't you? That's fine, you're bound to encounter it out there somewhere. It's invisible until you touch it, at which point a honeycomb pattern ripples out from the point of contact. As a general rule, the barrier gives back what it gets: Place your palm on it and you'll receive a faint uncomfortable buzz. Run headlong into it, and it will ricochet you multiple yards back into the woods.

The barrier stretches all the way around the containment zone without a single break or point of yielding. No further buildings can be seen beyond the barrier, nor any real sign of civilization at all save for the gas station's road stretching past the barriers and out of sight. The only thing of passable interest is the somewhat concerning tree sitting at the far end of the field across the street from saud gas station, at least two-hundred yards past the barrier. At this distance, it's a bit tricky to make out what flocks in the tree's branches. Those have to be birds... right?

► MOD NOTES ►

• This log takes place from July 4th onward, arguably through whenever the event goes up - though you're welcome to toss up your own logs in the meantime. I'm gonna troubleshoot the HTML to leave a space for IC dates, but I didn't want to waste any more time on that right now.
  
• Vestige is now open for business! You're welcome to post logs + network posts of your own, post memes on vestigechat, whatever you want.
  
• This log is functionally intended to be a tour of the containment zone for new characters and players, with dashes of mild horror or discomfort along the way. Don't worry: The actual horror is rolling in later this month. (I'm tagging this under 'event' anyway, just to keep track of it.)
  
• You can literally have your character wake up wherever you want within the containment zone, even if I didn't list it. Go nuts.
  
• It's worth noting: None of the cabins are recognizable as the precise one from the TDM loop, nor is the forest fog still present. The forest is recognizably the same flora/fauna, but that's about it.
  
• You're welcome to include a network post with your top-level (or to put it up on vestigenet as per usual) - but don't forget to consult the NETWORK: USERNAMES ARE FUCKY drop-down of July's Infopost before you do!
  
• Direct any and all questions at Trace on plurk/discord or (for slightly slower answers) this top-level.
  
• My deepest most heartfelt apologies for the lateness, I failed to factor in my own godforsaken attention span.
  

Comments

ii.

[chaleureuse]

( at this point, it's become abundantly, unavoidably clear that what's insane here is not graham casner but the situation that they're in. either this is real or she has completely broken with reality herself, and either way the only thing for it is forward—so it had made sense to agree when he proposed locating something that could be fixed up and sharing it, that steadiness more comforting now than it had initially been. she is—

less useful than graham, when it comes to both locating a suitable option and, probably, in making it livable. petra damerel has never lived anywhere without at least two people employed as household staff, and has been camping exactly once in her life.

(glamping. she's been glamping once in her life.)

which is to say, she's on the lakeshore beside him, and indeed still there while he's stalking between cabins; watching intermittently when he goes, unclear on whether his favouring the lakeside choices is a preference or in deference to remaining visible from where she's sitting on his shirt (and not her sweater, neatly folded). either is fine. both is fine, too, actually; she thinks nearer the lake is better than deeper into the forest, given her own druthers, and she prefers being able to at least hear the sound of his footfalls between cabins this far out of arm's reach of the only person with whom she's yet acquainted.

she keeps reading the pamphlet. you won't miss a thing, it says. but before that it says, if, and what if she doesn't? she can imagine the ifs of that scenario all too well, and when she eventually gets to her feet, hands on the back of her hips, to consider following graham to express some irrelevant opinions—it's mostly just to think about anything except what martel might be doing right now. )

[casner]

[ graham, who is keeping the colloquial and possibly literal one eye on petra at all times, notices when she gets up, and has been noticing the fixation on the pamphlet. he gets why - let's just admit that's certainly a large part of what he's doing, it's just that his unhealthy coping mechanisms run to a] laser pragmatism and b] gritted jaw - and comes back to the shore proper to meet her. he doesn't actually take the pamphlet from her, but does clip fingertips around the top edges such that if she lets go, will make it disappear into a pocket or something. ]

All that's going to do is drive you crazy.

[ trying to regain control on one front while focusing on something else completely uncontrollable .....at least looking for a house will get them a house. it's got that going for it. he sympathizes perhaps a little too much. a gesture away from the shore, then a hand reached up to telegraph cupping the back of her elbow, the polite and extremely platonic version of touching hands. ]

Come on. I've found one that should work, but I need your opinion structural integrity and rustic charm.

[ the very tiniest trace of an encouraging smile, possibly. his crow's feet get deeper. ]

[chaleureuse]

( he's not wrong, but she doesn't immediately relinquish the pamphlet—like it matters, like she hasn't committed it uselessly to memory already—only letting go after she's resisted enough to feel stupid about it. she looks up when she does, instead of watching where he disappears it. that is control, of a sort. that she tells herself she doesn't need it.

she is going to drive herself crazy, probably, but there is something like relenting in the release of her shoulders and the way she holds onto his arm when she ducks down to scoop his shirt and her sweater from the ground. tucks them together under her arm, tilting her chin in a sort of lead on, macduff.

instead of acknowledging any of the first part, now that the pamphlet is out of sight and they can pretend (she will pretend) that means it's out of mind: )

This is a euphemism, yes?

( rustic charm. she assumes for even less structural integrity and maybe possible dry rot. )

[casner]

[ as if he would know what to do if she did acknowledge it beyond like, half a shrug and one quarter of a back of the throat noise, pls. the point is definitely not to acknowledge it, possibly ever again. this will be deflected further by gesturing for his shirt and, if possible, her sweater; if i start going "this isn't some weird form of chivalry, it's just graham's tendency to take responsibility for all things, including carrying shirts," i will never stop, so this is the single time i will do it, and now i am done.

anyway, in response to the question he sort of huffs through his nose, which is about the closest he gets to real laughter and we should all be grateful. because his chuckle is dangerous and, frankly, sinful. ]

More or less.

[ the house turns out to be the remnants of a lakeshore cabin that was once probably quiet and pretty, although everything on the water facing balcony has mildewed beyond repair, and the plants decorating the edges of the walkway to the front door lie dead in their pots; despite the massive aesthetic damage, the building itself does look reasonably sturdy.

graham walks petra around both stories, pointing out various safe...ish things that i know nothing about because i know nothing about building codes, basically demonstrating why this particular domicile is more likely to stay standing than some others. also if there's one quality it has retained it's the quietness; there are a number of other houses in sight, but at a bit of a remote distance. that was definitely a selling point for graham, who would be living by himself, contentedly, if a] they hadn't run into each other again and b] this was that other life. 2010 BF (before fristed)

he doesn't know if having someone else in the second bedroom will keep karina from scratching at his door all night, but it's worth a shot. ]

Some of what's inside looks...salvageable.

[ despite the dubious nature of this sentence graham clearly sees it as a positive, hands on his hips as he tips his head back to survey the house in full, once they're back on the walkway. ]

The exterior will need more work, but as far as I've been able to make out so far, nothing too complicated for me to handle. Provided the gas station has basic building supplies in addition to the requisite perishable snack foods and cheap sunglasses.

[ he relaxes his stance, arms loose at his sides as his attention turns back to petra in full. given something to do he seems focused, confident, illuminated where the listless loop version was dark and untethered. ]

I'm--going to head there now and see what I can track down. Look around inside while I'm gone, and try to catalog what won't have to be replaced.

[ there's some kind of look here, half warmed by fond memory, but quickly shuttered. ]

Uh--please.

[chaleureuse]

( this seems like something she can do—and she has this new phone, too, so sure: it probably has a notes app, she can make a little list as she goes, it's going to be extremely practical. she doesn't quite follow the look, except that there is something innately recognisable about someone who has been previously reminded to use his please-and-thank-yous, which is charming, so, )

Bring back cleaning supplies also, ( in the same tone, and then, graciously: ) Please.

( the gas station will probably have those, right? if not for sale then for—use, if it's set up like an actual gas station. and they probably have instructions; she can figure out how to clean things. a deep clean will go a long way to the salvage operation of making this place inhabitable, and she sharpens into focus with a task in a similar fashion.

she's cleaned up a mess or two before. it's just—bigger.

it's not like she has anywhere else urgent to be. apparently. )

[casner]

[ presumably, they shared a very nice smile here before casner remembered himself and headed stationwards. he's gone for a while, and the first time he appears in the doorway of wherever Petra found herself it's just to inform her he's making a second trip and will be back soon. in the interim she can find what he's hauled back so far out in the little room attached to the kitchen, which seemingly every house on a lake has for purposes of removing muddy shoes and such: the requested cleaning supplies, a mop that looks like it was made in the 70s but does appear to be in fit shape to clean, the various supplies mentioned up yonder, and the at least quasi-working push mower on the flagstones that connect the house to the road.

120 lbs of air conditioner isn't exactly agony for him to carry back, but it's definitely still audible as he thunks it down in the kitchen. they can figure out bedrooms later, and graham will just go ahead and set it up in hers without so much as a by your leave.

on which note, however, despite how he has given his outer layer to the cause of petra not having to sit on bare ground, he does still have on a white t-style undershirt, starting to darken in places via the fucking lake humidity; there was a time when graham would have professed to prefer the cold, but: again, 2010 BF. that was then, this is now; he's grateful for the heat even as he uses the tail of his shirt to mop his forehead.

presumably he and his housemate will eventually encounter one another again, due to living in the same house and all, by which time he's investigated the basement and come up with several bottles of wine of the quality that escapes Boxed, but not by much. while he'd rather something stronger, they are in the process of accepting living here, at least for a little while, and quite frankly he would like to be anything but sober for it.

as such: petra is presented this offering alongside some plastic glasses bearing the remains of various faded pro sports logos. they seem mostly american, or so graham figures when he only recognizes one out of the half dozen that were in the cupboard. ]

If you're a drinker you're welcome to join me. I can take over cleaning duties after that.

[ what, it's equitable division of labor. ]