FEBRUARY EVENT LOG

[monstertruckers]

code

The Convoy begins a slow path through the forest, and a long road winding between the trees. The vegetation hangs thick overhead, with a perpetual state of dim light hanging over the surroundings. Sunlight and moonlight both have a hard time piercing the gloom. And alongside that is a sense of danger looming in the shadows.

01: DEPARTURE/MINGLE

Dawn arrives after a long and demanding night. As wane sunlight leaks through the forest, the forcefield flickers out. In its place, the Convoy hums to life. Engines thrum, breakfast appears in the dining car, and the speakers crackle with a pre-recorded, automated voice.

“The Convoy will depart in three hours. Please ready yourself for the trip. Secure your belongings, prepare your vehicle, remain as human as possible. End destination… Nirvana. Repeat, the Convoy will depart in three hours.”

The recording drones on a loop, before fading out in a crackle of static. Before departure there’s a few matters to attend to, some more pressing than others:
+Breakfast consists of bland porridge. Some might want better food, and with a decently stocked kitchen, one can make better.
+The showers have lost any hot water. Surely there’s some way to fix the heater or provide some hot water? Or otherwise grumble through a cold shower.
+There’s plant growth where the Husks have been felled. Flowering vines grow over the Convoy, and need to be pruned for departure. The foliage has an odd effect if directly touched, instilling wanderlust and curiosity. The affected feel compelled to wander… Or be curious about others!

02: HAUNTED GROVE

The trees grow into a tangle just a few paces off the road. They almost envelop the buildings, absorbing the structures until only the roofs are visible. The branches become more twisted, and almost arm-like when reaching out to you.

Vines hang like nooses from the trees. And a closer look shows moss ridden Husks draped in the branches. Still, those who ignore those ominous signs can find supplies growing and hanging from the branches; repair materials, and unnerving types of food like canned ham and frozen pizza.

And then… There’s the effect from staying in the shade of the trees for too long. There’s a lethargy that clings to you, even as it eases the changes wracking your body. Resting underneath the grove can heal a Drifter of one change, and leave them feeling soothed… But all of this is by design. The grove WANTS you to stay there and become a part of it, so that it can ensnare you with vines or absorb you into trees. It can restore Drifters, but if they stay there for too long they’re going to need some rescuing.

03: WRECK

There’s a collection of abandoned cars in the forest clearings. Some cars are better preserved than others, some even containing cargo, weapons, and ammo, with a possibility to scavenge equipment off them…

…If not for the traps, set around the wreckage in the form of steel jaw bear traps and snares. All of them are coated in something that leaves the vision blurry and sets hearts into overdrive. If exposed to too much of it, there’s suddenly a reason for that near panic; hallucinations of fears can easily flare up.

There’s also things prowling the wreckage on four metallic canine legs, with gleaming chrome teeth and red headlights for eyes. The guidance computers on nearby vehicles flash an alert as they draw close; identifying them as chromehounds, though these have seen better days. Dented, damaged, but still fierce enough. And still ready to pounce on anyone caught in the traps or drugged with fear toxin.

While the chromehounds can be dispatched, the fear toxin will have to run its course. Closer examination of the hounds and traps shows an insignia of a sword piercing the moon.

03-A: MONSTER NEST

Hostile beasts lurk in the woods. Many are cautious, nocturnal creatures that prefer to emerge at night, and hunt any Drifter who has strayed outside the reach of the Convoy forcefield.

A massive monster nest dwells in a crumbling, abandoned overpass in the middle of the forest. The Convoy does its best to give the area a wide berth, but it’s entirely possible Drifters might still stumble across it: particularly if some of the more annoying creatures like Great Jagras steal food and take it back to the den.

Many of the beasts make their dens in abandoned vehicles littering the overpass: Jagras and Slicemargl take up the better spots, while noxicaps and scavengers linger on the fringes. But the most territorial are the mutant bears, occupying the darker parts of the underpass.

04: SHRINE

The moon glows balefully overhead some nights. An eerie light glows across the sky, like a burning aurora that exacerbates any symptoms the Drifters have picked up this month. Sometimes the trees help to muffle this maddening light. But not always.

There is however a remedy that blocks out the light; dotted near the road or just off the forest paths are shrines carved from stone and wood. The aurora dims near these shrines, and offers breathing room. Small offerings dot the alters, and some are even medicines that can alleviate hallucinations, wanderlust, and the like.

But there’s a price for taking these offerings; the various candles dotting the shrines ignite, flames reaching for the intruder, and burn either a monster change, or a message into their skin. It’s equal odds which one a Drifter receives. The message fades in the span of the month, but offers cryptic words regarding the world, and can be logged in the Convoy database.

05: STASIS WARNING

Pockets of something… Wrong lurk on the road, or just off the path. Many of them are lined with Husks twisted into horrified expressions. Others are little more than a faint distortion and ripple in the air. But once a Drifter wanders into the pockets, the effects become all too clear.

The pockets are alarmingly still when stepped inside. This stillness tries to seep into anyone in the pocket, making them stiffen, their thoughts go sluggish and almost halt… But the Sigils on their skin dispel this before it can completely overtake a Drifter. Sigils disperse the field with explosive results; bursts of fire or electricity, surges of plant grown, rock explosions all burst as the field is dispelled.

The one warning for these pockets are strange symbols and the words ‘STASIS’ inscribed on rocks, trees, and signs around these pockets, warning about them. A couple crisscross the roads needed to take out of the forest. It seems that a Tough vehicle could easily wade in and survive the explosions of magic, while a Fast vehicle would be capable of outracing any trouble… While those on foot will need to hope for the best, or for fast healing.

06: RADIO HOUR

After several days of travel, and around nightfall the Convoy approaches a resting point ringed in Husks. It resembles a log cabin, with some unnerving traits; first, the trees near the cabin become more rigid and geometric, almost like pylons. Second is the large radio tower growing out of the cabin itself. Once the Convoy is in range, the radios, phones, and screens all crackle to life. Screens display a broadcasting logo, followed by an emergency signal drone. Astute Drifters can check the dates that pop up, and realize that this is an old recording.

“Attention, this is an emergency broadcast. Seek shelter immediately. A moon warp is imminent. Repeat, a Moon Warp is imminent. Impact: falling moon shards will cause destruction and distortions. Prepare by seeking cover inside shields. Those caught outside will be twisted. Seek shelter immediately.”

Outside the Husks pulse, and the broken moon shimmers. Several bright spots in the sky grow brighter… And larger, as shards of moon fall. The Convoy comes to a wrenching halt. A warning siren echoes, before the Convoy deploys its shield. Those inside are safe from the worst of the Warp, able to hide out in the Convoy. Nothing like a good time to bond with whoever you’ve been shut in with, right?

07: MONSTER HOUR

Those outside the Convoy will be in for a rougher time. The glow from the falling moon shards has a way of piercing into the brain and forcing a full transformation for as long as the Moon Warp lasts.

During the Warp, there’s plenty of trouble for Drifters. The Husks glow before bursting into a pack of violent, wolf-esque gryphons called Nargacuga, and a host of other beasts. These monsters favor scaling trees for dive attacks, or hauling Drifters up into the branches. But with their focus on the Drifters, the Nargacuga are easy prey for the chromehounds nearby, which pounce in a tangle and clash.

By dawn, the Warp has worn off. The Nargacuga are dead, while the chromehounds have been smashed. Transformed Drifters have two options in the aftermath; either they've burned off so much energy fighting they revert into an exhausted state. They will likely be suffering from disorientation and require rest, healing, and anchoring from others. Alternately, Drifters run wild ahead of the Convoy as something draws them north; they will have a chance to revert next month, in the Messages prompt!

07-A: MONSTER BRAWL

One particularly large and ferocious Nargacuga leads the pack of monsters… And seems to have a particular hatred for technology. He attacks the radio tower, doing his best to knock it down, and then strikes at the Convoy only to be deflected by the shields. Once he’s deflected, he vents his rage on the Chromehounds.

The radio picks up something from the lead Nargacuga each time he bleeds, and a patchy broadcast happens, with different fragments heard by different people:
1. “Serenith has ordered. I obey. Obliterate every trace of Wardens, cull their human flock. Justice for the packs they murdered.”
2. “Keep bleeding them until the moon Breaks, just like she ordered.”
3. “They gave me a place and a pack, where I could hunt.”
4. “Be ruthless. The Steel Wardens aren’t different, with the children they cull.”
5. “Hate… Loss… Blood. Always more blood.”

In its death throes the Nargacuga obliterates any remaining Husks, littering the area with quicksilver pools. Drifters must be careful around these pools, as contact with them will cause all pre-assigned monster traits next month to linger without special treatment.

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.

Radio Trees: A strange line of geometric trees leading towards the radio tower cabin. The closer a Drifter gets, the more they can hear faint music and old broadcasts regarding moon phases.

Hunting Grounds: An area of burnt out husks that have already burst open. There’s a few monster carcasses scattering the area, along with broken weapons and bullet casings. A symbol has been carved into the monsters, or a moon pierced by a sword.

Forest Flowers: A clearing that lacks the grasping trees from before, and instead is taken up by crystalline flowers. They give off a pleasant fragrance, and help to relax characters. Can be crushed into a medicine to help cure long lasting fear toxin effects.

Falling Trees: Drifters are advised to be careful of falling trees obstructing the road, and which may need to be hacked through. Granted, what’s knocking over the trees is another question entirely!

Lakeside: streams and rivers thread the forest, occasionally creating marshy areas. These rivers eventually feed into a massive lake that borders the radio tower cabin. The water is cloudy, and the bottom of the lake covered with the remains of destroyed chrome hounds: they’ve clearly been torn apart by the nargacuga prowling the area.

NAVIGATION

Comments

[taediosum]

[ Arcade is absolutely the last person about to argue that anything corporate deserves even an ounce of respect, and his mild amusement (and less mild agreement) only becomes more obvious at that admonition. He laughs, just a little. ]

Humans. [ The verbal equivalent of a shrug. ] We're just plucky like that.

Besides, it wasn't like they had a ton of options. There were a handful of Vaults under the old LA. A lot of the original settlers came from those, and they couldn't really risk venturing too far out into the Wasteland to start rebuilding.

[serialmurderbot]

[This sounds like some strange sort of failed terraforming, or maybe a weird Corporate terraforming method? Honestly, most of the people around here sound like they come from pre-CR colony projects. Which is odd, when it takes the chance to think about that (tagged for later. Right now it ought to keep most of its attention on making sure something doesn't sneak up and eat them.)

It also leans further into the vehicle to check for any other signs of bags or abandoned equipment.]

Vaults?

[taediosum]

Fallout shelters.

[ Arcade watches the trees, adjusting his new-old bag over his shoulder (he really should be looking for a more practical one, while they're at this, actually) as he scans the overgrown roadside beyond them. There are a couple more cars, further down, but they look even more rusted and pitted out than this one. ]

Built to last. ...Some of them, anyway. Others were - well. It's not important. At least the people inside didn't have to worry about the nukes or another plague. [ Though a lot of what they did have to worry about was worse...

But he doesn't say that, either. ]

[serialmurderbot]

[Oh, that's familiar, all right. The SecUnit finishes its survey of the inside of the vehicle and closes the door once again - not that it matters, because the thing is a wreck and one of the windows is broken so it's not going to exactly seal the car up again. But it wants to slam something, so car door it is.

It doesn't latch closed, but it hits the frame with a semi-satisfying smack. Not the smartest thing to do but it's welcoming that sixty-seven percent chance of monster attack, right about now.]

Because humans are cheap and disposable.

[Oh, that's bitter. Rein it the fuck in, Murderbot.]

[taediosum]

[ Arcade jumps, ever so slightly, at that half-successful slammed door, but he isn't about to mention it. They've been talking this whole time, anyway - if something was going to come along, it already would have... right? ]

I imagine that was the Vault-Tec line, behind all the cheerful cartoon propaganda.

[ That's not entirely without a tinge of bitterness. But Arcade is used to this kind of conversation, unfortunately. ]

Personally, I prefer not to think of people as nothing but cannon fodder or data points on a graph. But that's not the kind of thinking that gets you a seat at the table, when it comes to wildly unchecked capitalist ambition.

[serialmurderbot]

[It doesn't glance at Arcade apologetically - it just steps back away from the door, adjusting the bag it already slung over its shoulder.

Vault-Tec... doesn't sound like a familiar corporation, but there are so many that it's not surprising. It doesn't know much about terraforming Corporations - mostly about Security and Bond companies, like the [company] it belonged to.

Less important than the point, which is talking shit about the Corporation Rim. And checking if any of those monsters out there are taking an interest, as it turns to watch their surroundings.]

Profit margins don't have a line item for being a good person.

[... It definitely stole that line from one of its shows.]

[taediosum]

[ It might be a borrowed line, but it's snappy enough to prompt a not entirely sarcastic half-smile. ]

Unless it's to deduct revenue for accidentally erring too far on the side of generosity, anyway.

[ Arcade gestures to the wrecks further on, though, keen to keep moving if there's nothing more to dig through in this one. ]

Come on. Let's not test our terrible odds by waiting around until something does find us.

[serialmurderbot]

[It's going to brush right past how weird it feels for just a moment to have sparked that amusement, even muted. Isn't that the point?

Arcade has a good idea, anyway, which SecUnit takes to, entirely happy to start towards the next cluster of vehicles. For a few moments it seems like the conversational energy it had has been burned out by the brief burst of talk, as they make their way to the next cluster, but it musters up some question.]

Why're you used to dealing with local fauna. [After all, like it said - it doesn't have numbers that high, even if it's pretty sure Arcade was talking metaphorically as humans do.]

[taediosum]

Because I occasionally venture outside the relative safety of our urban confines to deal with the local flora.

[ Among other things. But he doesn't think broadcasting other people's business (even if he had a personal hand in it) is the best of ideas. Even here, where nobody would know thing one about any of it.

He shrugs, stopping beside a wreck with a door that a newly grown tree has wedged open, and leaning down to try to get a peek inside. ]

Or to visit... friends. Traveling pretty much anywhere in the Wasteland is a risk, really, even if you stick to the roads. You might not run directly into a cazador nest on a well-traveled route, but the ants can still be a problem. Not to mention the radscorpions.

[serialmurderbot]

[It doesn't know the names that Arcade lists off, but none of those sound particularly friendly, even out of context of talking about wildlife that can and will kill you.

There are a lot of questions that occur to it, and just as quickly get answered. Why separate out the settlements? Those vaults, competition over resources. Why leave the walls at all? Necessity, human inability to properly evaluate the actual odds of danger.

And now they're all stuck, at least temporarily, on a planet like that.]

Most of the [humans] people here don't have any experience of this shit. [Has it made a survey to determine that, no. Is it confident in its assessment purely based on their behavior? Absolutely.] They'll need a safety protocol before they get themselves killed in stupid ways.

[taediosum]

A 'safety protocol'? You mean you want to give them a set of rules to follow to not get killed?

[ There's a little bit of humor in that, too, though it's the dubious, sarcastic kind, as he glances up at SecUnit with a skeptical twist of a smile. ]

I'm not sure that's going to have the desired effect.

[serialmurderbot]

[It's not visible through the helmet but SecUnit's body language shows just as well how it rears back in a moment of genuine offense. Safety contracts are great! Yeah, sure, they won't work if humans don't use them, but that's not the protocol's fault.]

Does it sound better if they're 'nice suggestions so you don't fucking die?' [Rant: unlocked. It really doesn't matter in the end that Murderbot's expression isn't visible, because its voice conveys genuine agitation on the subject. It's the most genuine... anything it's shown talking to Arcade, the awkwardness for once completely buried.] It's about proper procedure to minimize risk. It's not a problem if everyone's sensible about it and takes their weapon certs and doesn't go back for extraneous equipment in a life-or-death situation where they could get eaten by a giant worm.

The last time someone didn't follow proper safety protocol on a job I got shot. And then I had to protect the idiot who broke protocol from getting himself shot by seven raiders. [Fuck you Thiago.]

[taediosum]

[ Wow, okay. Definitely touched a nerve, there. Arcade doesn't attempt to interrupt it, taking on this not-so-covert vent session patiently enough, after his initial surprise. (He may have been attempting to walk on eggshells - insomuch as he's ever been able - but the inevitable explosion is still a bit of a shock.)

And he doesn't necessarily disagree with its sentiment, either, even if trying to control others is the last thing Arcade would consider a personal priority. Educating them, on the other hand - that makes sense. ...But he also knows firsthand exactly how successful that tends to be, without willing volunteers. ]

Actually, 'nice suggestions so you don't fucking die' might go over better with people. [ Especially the younger crowd.

Arcade leaves the car he's standing beside behind (too overgrown, anything inside will have been ruined) and starts toward the next, carefully picking his way around knotted tree roots that have broken through the asphalt. ]

I'm not saying you're wrong to want to help them learn, but... you can't exactly demand that they do, either. That isn't going to help anybody.

[serialmurderbot]

[It's still agitated, paying little if any attention to the vehicles they came over here to inspect, aside from pacing along the edges of them, nominally looking for a way inside, but it doesn't even reach out for one of them with a storage rack and a still-sealed container on the roof.

Its helmet cuts over towards Arcade at that last.]

It doesn't help them to die of stupid preventable mistakes either.

[taediosum]

No. Knowledge might, though. Orders... I kind of doubt it.

[ People don't tend to like those. (Or maybe he's just speaking too much from personal experience, here. Or should that be preference?)

Peering past the wreck he's sidled his way up to, Arcade points to the roof of the one SecUnit is prowling around. ]

Are you going to check that?

[serialmurderbot]

Some of them are kids. They're supposed to go through a stupid rebellious phase.

[It's pretty sure it heard some of the humans and ART say that, anyway, and they'd probably know, having been involved in raising them. And also having been kids, theoretically, at some point (except for ART).

It follows Arcade's pointing, then looks away again, shoulders going awkwardly stiff.]

Maybe you should check that.

[Shitty retort aside, it does, after a moment, leap up onto the hood of the car, then to the roof, to check the latches on the case.]

[taediosum]

Some people never outgrow theirs.

[ Is that a veiled jab? A somewhat too personal remark not directed outwardly? ¿Por qué no los dos?

Especially with the way SecUnit responds to his mild prompting, which just nets a small, sarcastic smile in return. ]

[serialmurderbot]

[Did it catch that? The split-second hesitation before it finally undoes the catches on the container might just indicate that, but it snorts, the sound only slightly muffled by the helmet as it bumps the lid to the ground.

Then a sleeping bag, bundled up and smelling slightly of mildew, gets thrown down riiiiight next to Arcade. Not close enough to actually hit him, though it probably wouldn't hurt even if it did. Just close enough to be startling.]

Fine. Then they can be eaten by one of the torsos full of teeth.

[taediosum]

[ He's almost expecting retaliation, this time, and doesn't flinch again when the rotten sleeping bag hits the ground just beside him. Deserved, probably. ]

That's the spirit.

[ Ha ha.

But his tone does soften back toward earnest and trying-to-be-reasonable quickly enough. ]

Just try to go easy on them. Most people don't actually want to accidentally get themselves killed. Or anybody else.

[serialmurderbot]

[Another mostly-unusuable sleeping bag thwops down onto the ground, this one at a much safer distance from Arcade, in case he needed more proof that the first one was intentional.]

Sure.

[Does it sound tired? Because it feels tired, all of a sudden. Maybe it's because of all of that not wanting.]

Too bad they ended up here.