MAY EVENT LOG

[monstertruckers]

code

Out of the thorn brush, the land still looks twisted and broken. And it turns a lot more jagged as rocks burst up and out of the ground like teeth… And keep reaching upwards, in defiance of all the gravity that should be pulling them down. The further up the rock spires reach, the more they splinter until the stones are free floating. The same happens to the threadbare trees, their branches and leaves breaking off and hovering in empty air. The nature of this place becomes clear: reach too high, and eventually gravity gives up.

01: BATTLE GROUND

The ground grows rougher, pockmarked with craters and rents, like the landscape is scarred. A little further up the road is the source of those wounds. Curious Drifters will find a tangle of rock and metal reaching high up to the sky. It’s a snarl of wrecked vehicles, rock spires… And bodies.

Robotic hunters are half melted into the bones of a giant monster, and the lights have long since gone out of their lens eyes. Many of them still clutch weapons; swords, guns, and bullets by the bag-full. The hunters and weapons remain locked with the corpse of a horn crowned monster with arm length teeth, and it’s clear this tangle is the only thing that keeps the hunters or their weapons from floating off. Drifters can potentially loot the weapons… They just have to be careful about not floating off while they salvage equipment. The footing here is uneven, and the ground looks ready to break with a wrong step.

These hunters also carry prayer screen beads, but the data on them is horribly scrambled. Any attempts to tamper with them cause them to repeat a single message: “I STILL LIVE” before shorting out and shutting down.

02: HEALTH INVERSION

A building grows out of the valley; a hospital that has been turned upside down, and its foundations reach for the sky like weird tree branches. The hallways inside are all sorts of twisted up, and the building can’t seem to decide if Drifters should walk on the ceiling or the floors.

Twisted as the building is, ruins gutted by time and overgrown with vegetation… There is salvage available. Medical supplies, healing potions, healing herbs, all of it is bountiful in the hospital. The hospital is also rife with Husks, but all of them are inert… Or have already been broken apart long ago.

Then there’s the matter of the hospital screens flickering on in the wake of the Drifters. Warning lights try to flicker on, as old electronics try to scan the Drifters. The machines give up flickers of data, declaring Drifters to be “infected.” The old restraining systems of the hospital are still active, as manacles and straps alike shoot out, trying to restrain Drifters. The bonds keep them inert until they can be sedated and enclosed in what look like holding pens for violent patients. Best hope there’s someone around to help break a Drifter out.

03: SHARED THOUGHTS

The valley is overgrown with strange plants that glow with eerie light. Sometimes in camp stray glowing tumbleweeds roll through… And any contact has interesting side effects. Drifters will find they’re more aware and capable of picking up on unsaid things. These powers can the month. Each glow confers different abilities:

Blue Glow: Makes Drifters more empathetic in a psychic sense. They can register the emotions of those nearby, and may start to feel those same emotions.
Green Glow: Makes Drifters capable of projecting their emotions to other people.
Purple Glow: Gives Drifters telepathy, to hear and send thoughts to others.
Orange Glow: Grants Drifters limited psychometry. (Object reading.) Using it in the hospital or the battleground will yield unique visions and messages. Please comment to the mod/NPC thread below if your character wishes to do so!

Drifters can stack these effects, but this can overload their minds and force transformations. Those with Swarm traits will find it easier to handle psionic abilities. Additionally, ALL DRIFTERS who experience psionics will find themselves susceptible to Events 4 and 5.

04: MONSTER SHIFT, HIVE-MIND

Worryingly, extra contact with the glowing plants can not only stack mind abilities, but also force Swarm traits. The more a Drifter is overwhelmed by psionics, the more likely this is. Drifters will have access to all Swarm traits for this event, and the following:
+Psi Hunger. A need to eat psychic energy in the form of dreams, psi-infused objects (like sage brush) or even psychic minds.
+Psi Senses: luckily, Drifters can glimpse heavy psychic energy in the brush through enhanced senses, and pick out strange brain monsters. These are good eating for Swarm monsters… And there’s an unnervingly high number of them.
+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 spend more time in the wilds, absorbing power from plants and hunting prey in wilderness. May also be compelled to share this prey with others.
+Gravity Affinity: If possessing wings or the ability to wall climb, may freely hunt/traverse corrupted gravity areas.

05: WHAT DREAMS MAY COME

On several nights the wind picks up, and sage brush is uprooted and sent tumbling into camp. The plants trade their prior glow to something more baleful and crimson. With the wind whipping through the camp, it’s almost impossible to avoid unless a Drifter is already secure in the Convoy.

The effects aren’t immediately obvious, until the Convoy sleeps for the night… And that sleep is different. Namely the sleep is connected, showing both memories and dreams from other Drifters.

Memories from their pasts can blend together to form a strange dreamscape, that connected Drifters can travel through. But those dreams can easily turn into nightmares. Those who were exposed to the fear toxin in February will trend towards nightmares and may have their old fears make a reappearance.
If those nightmares are vivid and unsettling enough, they can force a transformation. (This may be either current monster traits, or a Swarm monster!) And then…

06: BRAIN ATTACK

It happens just before dawn, during the blue hour… Or perhaps it might be more apt to call it the red hour, with how the sky is stained crimson. It’s just bright enough to distinguish something moving in the hills. Drifters can pick out a rustling in the brush; something that isn’t wind. There’s something moving, crawling on claw tipped legs… And looking less like sage brush and more like a brain.

The Intellect Devourers numbers in the hundreds. Their claws scour the ground as they race towards the Convoy and smash into the shield. Numbers start to overwhelm the generator, along with the chaos the brain brush has sown with their psychic echoes.

The psychic echoes increase as they swarm the campsite, trying to drive Drifters into a frenzy with nightmares, fears, and strange visions. The brains are also ready to use those long sharp claws to tear anyone disoriented enough into ribbons, and start feasting on them.

06-A: BRAIN BRAWL

Hallucinations: The Intellect Devourers try to whip up more terrifying visions. Anything to disorient the entire Convoy, or drive the Drifters into a madness that leaves them transformed and too wild to easily counterattack. These hallucinations may be past trauma, or something a Drifter fears happening; the ultimate goal is to leave Drifters panicking, changed, and vulnerable.

Rally: Still, there’s one thing the Devourers didn’t anticipate: and that is how sharing a mental link has given the Drifters an anchor with each other. With all the psychic echoes spreading through the camp, any and all mental links from before can easily flare back up. Drifters who have shared dreams or some form of mental connection may still transform, but their mental link can keep their minds stable and coherent instead of growing feral.

Scars: Whether through brute force battles or mental link resistance, eventually the Convoy is able to shrug off the attack… But there is still some damage done. The shield generator has shorted out, and the Convoy itself has taken a few gashes and gouges. Not to mention any transformed Drifters will still need to be talked down. Luckily the mental links are still in place to help with that, and there’s a truck full of medical supplies to help with patching up any hurts.

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.

Disorientation: When wandering through the brush, Drifters may experience a swarm of disorientation: their thoughts suddenly scramble, they forget where they were going or what they were doing. They may also come to with a set of gashes along their legs, and a sense that they may have seen something in the sage brush move… Or maybe it was just the wind.

Float: Occasionally, parts of the road just give up their hold on the ground and go drifting skywards. Hopefully those chunks of road don’t take Drifters and their vehicles with them. Tough vehicles can likely survive the drop, while Fast vehicles can speed away before they float too far upwards. Drifters caught outside their vehicles will have to hope they have fast reflexes… Or are either good fliers or good jumpers for the leap back down.

Raining Down: On occasion, gravity will flicker and warp oddly… And that means that other odd things can fall where they used to float; rocks, plants, not to mention the odd bit of hardware and buildings. Watch for falling objects of various shapes and sizes!


NAVIGATION

Comments

[undyingcrow]

[How curious.

Are memories and the present blending? Did that pod represent his changes here?

With the shadowed pod gone, Akechi approaches Zero's pod instead.]

You have quite the storied history...

[A dark, complex one, at that.]

[hexrot]

[ closer to dawn than dusk, jayce can't be too sure he's cleanly tucked away from the light's future reach, but he does try to stay closer to nature than civilization. he tries, but he's awkwardly wedged underneath a crooked tree and uplifted log at the valley's edge. he cannot see, cannot speak— so nothing quite speaks in return to jack's inquiry.

but jayce hears. he smells. fingers curls into grass and gravel as he attempts to flatten himself to the earth. there is, at least, an exchange happening, mind to mind that he cannot control, a feeling that cannot be fabricated or masked: a spike in his worries, and a sharp, insistent no as an answer.

he would've rather said "everything's fine, go back". not everything is possible when you are half deer, all rot and even more monster. ]

[hexrot]

[ jayce slips in and out of a fever-burning consciousness laying on his side, in the poorly lit dip of the crevice right by the rejected corpse of a half-eaten salamander creature and the acrid stench of jayce's own vomit. starving and painfully ill, he gasps awake to the sound of his name echoing within the chambers of his prison, whirling everywhere as he sits up and moves nothing of his mangled leg. his beard hasn't grown through completely, his hair still partially short at the neck and ends, but his thick stubble emerges from the pores of a face that looks too young to be the man serph knows. he fell asleep. what was he doing? he was in the middle of— who was that?

jayce blinks and rubs his eyes, trying to ignore the vision he thinks he's hallucinating. he's clearly unwell. that's not real, just like the other things he chases, and has seen since he ate that damn thing raw from his own desperation to put something in his stomach— ]

That's . . . No, that can't, [ that can't be possible, can't be this isn't right none of this is right i can't think, he mutters, and mutters, and trails and reacts, and looks again in the man's general direction only to come so very close to weeping, ] —Serph— I'm, I'm losing it, [ whispers, and whispers, and whispers, ] you can't be here, no one's ever here, it's always . . . Me, and this, [ this empty space. this silence that is too loud and this painful, filthy, hellish hole he'll never forget— ] —Help. E-Even if you're not there, say something.

[ if he's begging his brain to conjure words of aid, so be it. ]

[undyingcrow]

"In a place like this, I wouldn't call it crazy, per se. It's likely an aspect of your transformation..." But an interesting one, when combined with these particular plants. "So, what have they told you?"

[undyingcrow]

"Rather odd that it'd be called 'Nirvana,' unless it's a misnomer..." And yet, the parallels are there, however ominous. A curious thing indeed... "I wonder what it is about humans that renders them ill fit for this world."

[purplexing]

"Wh- seriously?" Donnie blurts, having another look around to make sure he hadn't missed anything.

"Well...that is certainly an extreme way to underline the differences of specific names according to different worlds..."

He frowns, looking back at Serph. "Wait, you said Nirvana created your original world. Is this how everything always looked then...?"

[wasteland_101]

You chose the worst time to find a way into the vault.

[She looked a bit younger than she had when they first met outside of the Vault, in the strange broken world. Her eyes were a bit too wide for someone that was supposed to be used to the Wasteland. She was still dressed in her vault suit as well.]

Did you see an older man? Short dark hair, greying beard...? Goes by the name of James?

[She doubted that he had seen her father, but it didn't hurt to ask. She had no clue what was going on but she was going to find out.]

[purplexing]

[Donnie nods, finally seeming to relax a little though his brow is still furrowed from the concern of not being sure what had afflicted him a moment ago. He's still cautious (is that him?) and the puzzlement blends with his own, easier things to handle.

He takes in a deep breath, lifting his head to look back over at Akechi, carefully.]

...or the fragments that exploded off the tower when people touched those swords. You didn't by any chance collect any of those, did you?

[Donnie eases himself into a more upright position, looking around warily.]

It looked like they just fell on their own. Maybe from exhaustion? It...it was hard to tell.

-what was that earlier? Something...happened.

[wereperrito]

"Magic in my experience is exhausting," Jack points out, ducking under his arm to be the best support he can. He badly wants to help. Something itches in the back of his throat, something cold and buzzing. He ignores it for the moment, more concerned about Serph. "I'm always a wreck after I transform. You could have stopped sooner, and not been so worn down."

Yang Xiao Long | RWBY | Zoanthrope (Werewolf)

[fists_of_funny]

Battleground

Yang has accepted scavenging is a necessary evil, but at least this time it's a battlefield of some kind, rather than homes or businesses. This is easier to bear than picking through the remnants of people's lives. And what there is in abundance is ammo. Lots of ammo. Yang tries to grab what she can, stepping as carefully as she can, as part of a group, helping other Drifters find their footing and not float off.

She grabs a bag of ammo, wrenching it free of a trashed robot, and leans back as the remnants, now free of the tangle, float past her and away. She opens the bag, checks it. "Mmm...looks like we've got an assortment of calibres in here." None of what she needs, though. "What've you got? I'll trade you for some shotgun shells if you've got any."

Shared Thoughts-Telepathy

A brush, that's all it took. A brush with some glowing plants, and now she's hearing the thoughts of everyone in the immediate vicinity, and it's giving her a real headache. In an effort to try and block it out, she retreats to the back of Blake's van. It's cool and dark in there, which helps the throbbing in her head from all the thoughts. Though not much.

And it does nothing to stop the thoughts of anyone who wanders past the van from entering Yang's head, so eventually she gets out, finds something to write on and write with, and affixes a sign to side of the Titty Van.

I AM SUFFERING FROM TELEPATHY
IF YOU COME AROUND, I WILL READ YOUR THOUGHTS. CAN'T TURN IT OFF. SORRY.
YANG XIAO LONG ♥

Of course, you might need to come close anyway just to read the sign, which admittedly didn't occur to Yang when she posted it.

What Dreams May Come-It Happens Every Night (CWs for trauma, talk of mutilation)

The telepathy also comes with the side-effect of making Yang more susceptible to the dreamsharing phenomenon that affects the Convoy, and unfortunately, one of the dreams it draws out is a nightmare.

Yang stands alone in a dimly-lit space. It's difficult to make out the surroundings, but there's an implication of a wide space, and rubble. All around are the distorted sounds of screaming, and battle. And Yang is staring at her arms, both flesh and blood, but she looks scared. When she looks up, out of the darkness, a man is emerging from the darkness, masked and dressed in dark clothes that seem to blend into the darkness, except where he is glowing red, his hair, the patterns across his jacket, his gloves. Adam Taurus. There's a katana sheathed at his side as he walks towards her.

Yang panics, but she finds herself no longer defenceless. Ember Celica is there, on both her arms and she raises them, punching a stream of bullets towards Adam, but he continues walking. The bullets don't seem to hit him at all. He reaches down and places a hand on the hilt of his sword. Trying to steel herself, Yang fires another bullet, or tries to, but Ember Celica is gone now. Her arm is bare.

Her other arm is gone again, just above the elbow, bandaged. Yang is defenceless, and terrified. By the time she looks up, Adam is there, in her face, uncomfortably close to her. He smiles.

And pulls the katana out of his sheath. The blade glows red in the dim light.

This is normally where the nightmare ends, but tonight it doesn't. What do you do?

The Soldier (CWs for blood, death)

Another battlefield, but an active one. Smoke fills the red sky, as buildings burn. Distantly, the sounds of battle can be heard. But all that means little to the man limping away from the corpse of a fallen foe. His sword has been left behind in the belly of the enemy. He knows he's not going to need it. The Soldier clutches his stomach, which is stained crimson, blood dripping in his wake. A young man, with shoulder length blonde-haired, and violet eyes. He took a bad hit, and he's too far for help. The others are busy with their own problems right now. They're not going to be able to help him.

"Really...could use a doctor right now. Got these stabbing pains in my gut." Even though there's no one else around, he still laughs, haltingly, though it soon turns to bloody coughing. "Ow. Well, people always did say my comedy was painful."

He finally reaches his destination, a broken wall, but still enough of it for him to collapse against the side of, and rest his back. If he's about to die, and he knows he is, he might as well be comfortable.

He looks upwards, gasping in pain. His hand fumbles in a pocket for something. He can already feel himself starting to lose feeling in his fingers, but he has to get this out. The last thing he sees, Brothers please, if he's going to die, just let him die beholding the most beautiful thing in the world.

He pulls a locket out, and after some struggles, manages to open it. There's a small drawing of a woman inside, but her features are...indistinct. Black hair at least. The Soldier smiles down at it lovingly. "Sorry...I'm not gonna be able to keep my promise to you." Maybe in another life...

A few moments later, the locket tumbles to the ground as the Soldier's arm falls to the ground. With a sigh, he passes, a faint name on his lips his final words. Too faint to make out.

Yang's standing there in front of him. She wasn't there before, but as soon as the Soldier breathes his last she is. She kneels down in front of him, and her eyes go to the locket.

"He feels...familiar." is all she can say.

The Bottlecap (LOCKED TO BLAKE)

Blake falls asleep only to find herself standing on a beach at sunset. The night is quiet, save for the waves lapping on the sand. The moon in the sky is shattered, but in the distinctively familiar pattern that signifies this space is Remnant, or a recreation of it.

The serenity of the moment is broken however, as Blake put picks up the distant but swiftly approaching sound of an engine. Something bright is driving quickly down the coast, which is swiftly revealed to be Yang, in her road leathers, atop her motorcycle Bumblebee. She pulls to a stop near where Blake is standing, but takes no notice of her. Instead, Yang parks her bike and then swings off it. Only a day out from Patch and a long road still ahead, especially with the lead Ruby has on her. But she'll be no good to Ruby or anyone, if she wears herself out. Time to stop for the night.

As Yang is checking her pack, her attention is caught by something glinting in the evening sun, on the beach near the tide. She walks over. "No way...seriously?" She bends down and picks it up, holding it between thumb and forefinger of her cybernetic hand. It's a golden bottlecap, emblazoned with a logo both girls know well, Sunshine Pop!, very popular in Vale. Yang grins at her fortune. There was a diner that sold the pop that she used to frequent with Blake and the others. It's a reminder of better times, and even with her complicated feelings towards Blake right now, finding this bottlecap just as she sets out to reunite with Ruby...well, it makes her feel better.

Yang tucks it into her pocket.

Brain Brawl
The Intellect Devourers are swarming the Convoy and their psychic influence touches Yang, inflaming her anger. It's enough that, even without a Moon Warp, to push her past her limits of control. She can feel it start to happen...

"Everyone, you need to get...back..." Is all Yang is able to get out as her teeth begin to lengthen into fangs and she doubles over. The change comes on her quick, and in only a few seconds with the tearing of cloth, Yang has transformed back into a werewolf, and...

She blinks. She looks down at her hands. Holy crap, Blake was right, it did change with her. The Yang Wolf flexes her hands experimentally, and the claws on both hands slip out.

She grins wolfishly, and then looks up, past the other Drifters to the Intellect Devourers, and with an energetic howl dives into them. This isn't a feral rampage either; Yang is making full use of her combat training. Turns out despite the headaches, the telepathy was good for something; the mental link it and the dreamsharing created has reinforced her enough to keep her in control.

This time, at least.

[androidvictoriam]

[ They are in it together, in more of a sense than Zack realizes, at least as far as Danse's slightly confused and divided dream-consciousness is concerned. It takes a second for his mind to adjust itself around the disorientation of the unfamiliar face, but he still has as strong a sense as he ever did in real life that without the person standing next to him, he wouldn't be walking out of this bunker alive.

Not that this is looking nearly as likely as it had a moment ago. Hope turns to ash in his mouth with whiplash-inducing speed, and his desperate attempt at shielding his companion here from consequence--"It's not his fault! It's mine!"--falls on deaf ears. In his true memories, he recalls at least being acknowledged, but already the dream is warping to accommodate the foreign presence in a way his dreams never ordinarily do. ]

Have you taken leave of your senses?

[ A vein twitches in Arthur's temple, a display of rage Danse has never found himself on this end of before. And still isn't, technically, because when he advances a step further with a barely-controlled gesticulation, it's still only toward Zack. ]

"What thing?" Danse isn't a man, it's a machine. An automaton created by the Institute. It wasn't born from the womb of a loving mother; it was grown within the cold confines of a laboratory. Flesh is flesh. Machine is machine. The two were never meant to intertwine.

I ask you again--why is it still alive?

[flowersnjunk]

Eunie flinches at the sight of those claws, and she seems to sparkle even brighter for a moment. "Y-yeah, that's right, keep those where I can see 'em!"

Her head is still swimming, and it seems like the light she's giving off isn't helping. She presses a hand to her temple. "Argh, my head!"

[solitarysoul]

"I know some people do." He often patrols around the convoy when he can't sleep, just remains inside the shields. He's seen other Drifters past them hunting or something. "But I guess I don't know if they come back in while they're up or not."

[solitarysoul]

Levi's ears and tail droop. "I-I...i-its me. Levi? I just...I-I'm not sure I have the energy to turn back. Please. I just want to help."

Why did her being scared of him hurt so much? And why did the light make him want to shrink away?

[purplexing]

The turtle fusses a bit with the strap on the bag before managing to unfasten it so he can pull it free without having to try maneuvering it over anything. He dusts it off, taking a peek inside the flap.

"How do we know if we're missing anyone or not? I don't believe I've ever heard anyone do a role-call or something before we set out each morning."

[solitarysoul]

"Uh....I-i guess we don't. All, no...most of the people I recognize are still here. I don't know what happened to the rest, maybe they went off on their own." Or died. They were probably dead.

[purplexing]

Slowly, Donnie casts another look in Levi's direction, maybe just a little unsettled. It'd be kind of terrible to be left behind and no one realizing they were missing anyone. Getting to know other people probably helps there, but...it's still troubling.

He makes a face, not wanting to think of the alternative, even if it might be pretty obvious an option. Being off on your own in this place doesn't seem very wise.

[solitarysoul]

Levi cants his head a bit, not sure why Don is giving him a look. "So, um, anything good in the bag?"

[purplexing]

"Uh-" Starting a bit, Donnie looks down. Right. Bag. "Er...ammo, it seems. You in the market for bullets?"

[solitarysoul]

"Oh! My rifle uses .303s so if there are any of those I'd love them. If you don't have use for the rest I can take them. I can, um," He looks down at his bag, "Well I might have some stuff to trade if you want."

[purplexing]

"Never used any actual guns before." Only laser ones. He holds the bag out for Levi to have a look. "You'd probably know better than I would if they're what you need, but either way you can have them. I just want the bag."

[solitarysoul]

"Okay, sure, no problem. I can take them all and find people who need the ones I don't. Thanks!" He swings his satchel around and starts moving the ammo from Donnie's bag to his. Some of it goes in smaller bags within the satchel but some of it he doesn't have a specific space for so they just go in the bag.

"Y-you sure you don't want anything in return?"

[purplexing]

Donnie shakes his head. "It's fine. I mean, we're all kind of trying to look out for each other since we're all stuck here anyway, right?" He smiles faintly. "Maybe give me some shooting tips. If you find a rifle no one's using, I think it wouldn't hurt to figure out how to use one and maybe have it as backup in case my mystic-tech doesn't work."

Or he can't focus enough to form any weapons with it.

[solitarysoul]

"No problem. I've trained recruits before, its always better to teach people what to do than just let them figure it out with something like a gun."

[purplexing]

"Understandable. The only kind I've used are the ones and adjacent sorts of firearms I've built." As normal fourteen year olds do or something. Two years later, Donnie hasn't really invested a lot of time in physical weapons since discovering his mystic abilities, but he still builds them out of magic the same way, if only for temporary use.

"Mostly accustomed to a laser rifle, but I figure an actual one with physical ammo will have more of a kick."