(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

luke crain. ota.

[inventoried]

lakeside;

[ This place feels like somewhere Luke has been before, or like a dream of a place he'd want to be. It is an east coast in July type heat, which tastes different than Los Angeles even before you account for the densely oxygenated forest air. There are cabins, there are tall trees, and there is a big ass lake, and he thinks that he would have loved this at some point.

Or maybe his sister would have loved it, and so he would as well. She'd want to go swim in the lake, and specifically, she'd want him to come too. She'd bully him into it if she had to.

Luke is not going to do that, probably, but that echo of an impulse from a whole other life and person compels him to take off his shoes and stand where clear water creeps up onto densely packed earth and stone. The fact that it's not very cold is a point in its favour, but not enough. He bends at the knees, and a little stiffly, lands the heavy sit at the shore. He wraps his long arms loose around his knees and stares around him. ]

gas station;

[ The man that enters the gas station has just finished attempting to leave, and so there is an aimless quality to the way he walks through the doors and stops and looks around him. He's a big dude and a little rough around the edges, with ice-blonde bristle growing dense around his mouth and neck and jaw, a pool of sweat pooling damp into his sweatshirt beneath the arms and down his back.

He looks tense, without any outlet for it.

But Luke starts moving through the gas station anyway, glancing back at the counter to account for the lack of attendant. He picks up some items and puts them down, and comes to a stop at the freezer. He opens it and stands in the rush of cold air, before reaching in and taking out a small tub of ice cream that almost completely fits in his palm.

This, he stares at too, like maybe it has something to say. Then, he unceremoniously levers off the lid, extracts the little plastic spoon that comes with it, and digs it into overly-frozen strawberry ice cream with lazy intent. ]

his cabin;

[ Or, if you're doing some exploring, come find who claimed this building. ]

cabin, ambiguously after they talk

[skittering]

( the last step in lalli's thorough scouting of the area has been to assess the unclaimed cabins. at this one he waits on the porch - listening, sensing - but it seems like it's empty, and the door (whether through negligence or a broken deadbolt) is unlocked. and so he scouts it as he has the rest, peering into each room one by one for a cursory glance.

he rounds a corner with every intention of heading for the stairs when he comes more-or-less face to face with a man, stepping through the doorway as if arriving home. at which point lalli, of course, freezes still as a statue for a moment (as one does when faced with an uncomfortable situation) before breaking eye contact to glance off to the side. )

Scouting. Didn't know anyone lived here.

( he didn't touch anything, if that helps. )

[inventoried]

[ It's been enough days of solitary acclimation that Luke is wholly unprepared to deal with an unexpected person in the place he is beginning to call home, question-mark. He is sweating from his trek, face damp and moisture collected into the collar of his shirt, down his back. Maybe a trek from the gas station, judging by the bag dangling from his hand, heavy with stuff.

He steps inside with his hand still on the door handle and runs into a stranger. He doesn't freeze, not at first -- Luke steps backwards and hits the frame of the door with his shoulder. It has the same visual resonance of a Great Dane getting startled by a buzzing insect, including the frozen distrust that comes after. ]

Jesus, [ he mutters, almost more at himself than the person. He steps properly inside, letting the door hang open. ] You couldn't start a fuckin' survey?

[ Almost immediately after grousing-- ]

Sorry.

[skittering]

( well. this could have gone better. lalli isn't sure what a survey would have done to help anything (isn't that just asking questions? how do you survey a house to see if it has any dangers hiding inside? that's stupid) but he doesn't say as much.

instead, to the apology more than anything, he ducks his head into his shoulders a little in something shrug-adjacent. ) I can go. ( a beat, and a glance to the stairs. ) Only scouted this floor, but no danger so far. ( he was scouting this guy's chosen home, so he might as well give him whatever report he'd pulled together so far. )

[inventoried]

[ Luke shifts a look passed Lalli, maybe to see for himself as to the absence of danger, or maybe confirm the absence of further strangers. Then he moves aside, where a small table it set flush against the wall, setting the bag down. From it, he takes out a bottle of water, flimsy plastic that crinkles under his grip without much effort on his part.

He twists it open, although his going about his business is distracted, keyed into the presence of another person. ]

You, uh. 'Feral forest gremlin'?

[skittering]

Lalli. ( he did say his name in his post, so he doesn't feel bad correcting it if only because it's four syllables shorter.

a glance over this man, considering, and - ) You're bad at drawing? ( @ bad.at.drawing, he means, but he kind of just assumes that these names are blunt but true as a general rule. all of the ones he's seen so far have been, at the very least. )

[inventoried]

I'm okay at drawing.

[ That's basically a joke. He gets the sense that this person is not really about that, all business, but Luke still smiles a little crooked to himself. ]

But, uh. Yeah. Luke. [ He grips the bag he brought with him in a hand and starts making his way to the kitchen. It's just behind the younger man, which means Lalli has a clear shot at the exit if it's what he wants to do. This doesn't stop Luke from asking, ] What danger?

I mean. Have you found any, anywhere?

[skittering]

( to luke's credit, the joke does earn a dry exhale - what would've been a snort if it were even incrementally more amusing.

meanwhile he does consider the exit, but not in any urgent way, at least not until he feels like the conversation is over. which it isn't. )

Berries outside might be poison. Ivy in the flowers is poison. ( a slight wrinkle of his nose, because he hates ambiguous reports but, ) Weird tree out the south fence. Covered in... looks like birds, but no beaks. ( 'weird' is the key word.

all in all? ) Nothing trying to kill us. Yet.

[inventoried]

Okay. Good.

[ Low key as ever. Luke opens cabinets and puts things into them. Some cereal, some crackers, some jars, some cans. It's a modest haul that would still have been heavy to carry all this way, in this heat. ]

And the people?

[skittering]

( lalli huffs out a quiet breath. people, he's not so good with. he rarely talks to any of them long enough to get a proper read. but, )

Couple of them have killed people. ( and, thinking back on a conversation emil had with someone just yesterday, ) One of them's dead. ( ...that's confusing, he amends it to: ) Dead and walking, talking. Said he was a 'fierce corpse'. ( whatever that means. lalli is understandably Wary. )

gas station

[wittingly]

[ He read the pamphlet. He picked a cabin. He scouted everything he could reasonably scout, given that he isn't exactly Bear Grylls. In lieu of anything more productive to do, stocking up seems like a decent enough idea.

The gas station isn't empty, as it turns out. Ambling along the shelves quietly probably won't give away that he entered, not until he's strolling down the freezer aisle and coming to a pause at the sight of some dude just eating ice cream right there with a fucking spoon.

Which.

You know what?

He's not judging.

As though to prove it, he wordlessly navigates around Luke and grabs up one of his own to follow Luke's example. Vanilla? Open. Spoon? Shoved in.

Nice. ]

[inventoried]

[ Luke isn't a fan of being judged, sometimes keyed in sensitive to it, sometimes completely numb to it. Today is one of those latter kind of days, his brain full of white noise as he eats another mouthful of the ice cream in front of the open freezer. Hunger, at first, but by the time he registers the sound of footsteps behind him, hunger has curdled up.

Puking sounds pretty good right about now, actually, which is the dead ass opposite of hunger, but he wills that urge down.

Watches, side on, as someone blurry in his periphery takes the cue. That initial spike of fear ebbs. ]

You have to tell me if you're a cop, [ is pure gallows humour, flat in delivery. Then he looks towards the other man, a kind of darting, nervy sort of gesture that doesn't quite fit a man of his size, but that hesitation fixes, and soon he is staring. ]

[wittingly]

I'm a cop.

[ He says thickly, around a mouthful of vanilla ice cream sticking to his throat.

It's parried back in such a way that it's probably incredibly clear he is not even remotely a fucking cop.

Ian seems to perfectly contrast Luke; he's as chill as Luke is skittish. Calm and mostly unphased by any nervous displays going on here. He jerks his head in a kind of nod, wooden spoon still in his mouth before he reaches up to pluck it out. ]

You just wake up here too?

[inventoried]

[ Waking hallucinations aren't all that foreign to Luke Crain, although this doesn't feel like one. Everything feels very sharp and present, from the lingering cold bite of ice cream in his mouth and down his throat to the slightly tacky texture of the floor under his feet, to the way this guy is looking at him like they are strangers.

Which means they must be. ]

Yesterday, [ he says, and clears his throat to get the cobwebs out of his vice, rough textured from probably a lot of smoking as much as disuse. ] I think.

Had to see it for myself.

[ He flicks a look past Ian, beyond the interior of the gas station, indicating the barrier. ]