route666rp | MAY EVENT LOG

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MAY EVENT LOG

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

catch-all: convoy + hospital

[ After last month, Len isn't taking any chances. There's something simultaneously reassuring and frustrating about the way that this place resembles home, with its pervasively dangerous environments and constant onslaught of creatures that want to kill them. Before setting out he can be found along one side of the convoy, prepping his weapons and offering to do the same for any passers-by.

They don't have the luxury of not taking what they can when they can get it, which is why he also doesn't hesitate to explore the hospital. Might be the first time he's seen one completely upside-down, but beggars can't be choosers. The hallway they're in is dark and rotten, and something clicks before a few sensors start winking on. ]

Well, that ain't right. [ His pistol is already drawn. ] Watch your back.

dream a little, dream of me

i. new mexico

[ He's a lanky kid, barely a teenager judging by the awkward skinniness and messy hair. Suntanned but sweating and fearful, skin shining in the light of the pueblo buildings around him, their timber roofs ablaze. Behind the crackling of the fires and the shattering of windows there is an ugly laughter - gunshots, screaming - and it's difficult not to stand and stare, dumbstruck as a limp body is thrown through a broken door in front of him and the man that follows it turns to look at him.

It's like seeing a giant for the first time, all black leather and a crazed look in his eyes, blood slicking off of the rusty blade in his hand. That mouth cracks into a sick grin as another firebomb explodes behind him and the sound startles him into a terrified sprint, weaving between adobe walls in a blind panic, the echoing shouts fading behind him.

When he finally stops running his chest is heaving, the little community is a bright speck in the distant night and he's damp, having frantically clambered through a creek. Out the other side he collapses, shivering, against some old, marked stones. ]

ii. new reno

[ Cigarette smoke and live music fills the room in a crowded casino, The Shark Club written in neon on the wall over the bar. Slot machines and craps tables are sprawled across the main floor before dumping out into seating for the entertainment; a corner stage surrounded by chainlink fencing. Protection for the talent against an increasingly rowdy crowd. The decor leaves something to be desired, utilitarian and concrete, but the club is more inviting than the dirty street outside even if it gives off the distinct impression that it's run by some sketchy people.

The opening act for the main attraction is onstage: a man in his twenties, wielding a guitar and accompanied by an associate on the piano, executing a rousing rendition of an old pre-war song. They wrap with applause and soon extricate themselves from the only thing protecting entertainers from the occasional glass bottle, the young man meandering over to the bar to tap the counter for a stiff drink.

Once acquired he turns leisurely to the person next to him, giving them an obvious elevator eye and a pleasant smile. ]

Ain't seen you 'round these parts before.

shared thoughts

[ He has horns now, and he kind of hates them. It isn't that it's the first obvious evidence that he's changing as much as everybody else here, and it isn't that he feels a little bit like a Bighorner - it's that he can't wear his goddamn hat. Probably doesn't help that he bumped into a couple of those weird tumbleweeds rolling through the convoy, and now he feels like he's experiencing mental exhaustion like no other.

He projects an evident frustration with the circumstances, but he also feels like he can pick up what other people are putting down: exhaustion, fear, anxiety. Len considers himself a pretty excellent reader of people, but this is a little like being assaulted. ]

You, uh...you doin' all right?

wild card

[ Pretty much open to anything and everything outside of what I've provided, but I'm going to tag around a bit too! Let me know if there's something specific you'd like and I can always make a separate prompt for you. My plurk is yeeheist and my discord is uncalendula. ]

Edited 2025-05-13 14:26 (UTC)

[ It's a cool night, sitting out on this little ridge. The distant light pollution from the Strip barely touches the sky, a glittering white spread of stars spilling across inky blackness and the light breeze rolls the smell of pinyon juniper up into his nose as he stares down the barrel of his rifle.

Len adjusts the scope ever-so-slightly, shifting in place on his stomach with the gun cradled in his arms, one knee hitched up to stabilize his aim. There's a worn sort of familiarity in the routine, keeping an eye on another camp about a mile and a half away. The decor there says Fiends but the attire says raiders - it's possible they're trying to look more intimidating from afar, make folks think they're into the whole cannibalism thing.

There's a soft scuffing sound on the ground behind him; something he would react more quickly to if he didn't already expect its presence. His focus remains on the encampment. ]

You keep pacin' like that, you're gonna wear a rut into the ground.

[ He isn't sure when he started pacing, because he isn't sure when he got here, to begin with - but he stops abruptly, just the same, dust settling around his boots in the star-lit dim. Dream logic means none of this particularly alarms him, and simple familiarity assures whatever else might've set off some mental tripwire fades into the background almost immediately. ]

Oh. Sorry.

[ Len doesn't sound particularly reproachful - but, then, he never does. Even when he slides up close to someone he's thinking seriously about putting a bullet in and rolling into a ditch, just to let them know. Still, Arcade takes it for the implication rather than the tone. He's being annoying. Irritating. Getting under Len's skin, and that's never a good thing, when he's trying to stay focused.

The faint scuff of footsteps resumes, but only briefly, as Arcade returns to the flat scrap of sandy ground between Len and their packs to sit down. He's facing the dark behind them, rather than that camp on the horizon. But even with perfect vision, his view would be useless, from here. Better to watch their backs. Even if it's just as boring. ]

No sign yet, I guess?

[ Arcade is a habitual fidgeter, something Len has noticed when the doctor deigns to accompany the courier on an "errand." Stakeouts are his least favorite work; Len suspects it's predominantly because he's incapable of sitting still for longer than ten minutes at a time, which makes him a bit of a pain to deal with for a haul if only because he regularly finds something to complain about. If the stakes were higher, Len might actually be annoyed, but these assholes out here in the desert are small tatoes compared to their usual. ]

Not yet.

[ He notes with a sigh, tracking the movements around a raging bonfire that might as well be a beacon to the nearest wildlife screaming eat me. They're currently feeding empty bottles of liquor into the thing and whooping whenever it pops. ]

I don't think they're gonna move 'til late morning, they're gettin' piss-drunk right now. [ Len peels himself away from his scope to glance at Arcade over his shoulder. ] You holding up okay?

[ There isn't much for him to look at, in the other direction, either. Beyond the high and impossibly broad vault of the sky, full of so many stars it'd take a lifetime to chart them all, of course. But he's picked out every familiar constellation twice, by now, and probably bored Len to tears rambling on about the marginally more interesting ones. (That's usually what happens on these after-dark stakeouts, isn't it? When there's no light to read by and he's lost interest in his books, besides.)

So his gaze drifts back to Len, sprawled out on the ground alongside him, hugging his rifle in that seemingly light, outwardly careless way. It's as much a put-on as anything else, with him. He may as well be a dozing nightstalker, curled up in the sun. Sedate and harmless right up until anything moves in its periphery, then wide awake and striking so quickly that it's only a blur. More than once he's startled Arcade badly by taking a shot he's been lining up so casually you'd think he was only bird-watching, or tracing the path of a tumbleweed across the basin. It's grating. It's impressive. ]

Hm? [ Arcade's momentarily distant stare twitches back into focus as he glances up to meet Len's gaze. ] Oh, sure. Another hour or three, and I might go completely insane from the boredom. But I'm feeling okay, for now.

[ It's one of the rare times Len sees Arcade's otherwise sharp attention span drifting - but for anyone unaccustomed to entertaining oneself out here on a long night without light to read by, it's probably devastatingly boring. "Another hour or three," he says, like he's not going to lose it if he has to sit here another ten minutes.

Len eyes him with thinly veiled scrutiny for a long moment, tapping his pointer finger against the guard of his rifle. ]

...c'mere.

[ Arcade makes another quietly puzzled sound (Huh?) at that invitation, turning more fully toward Len. That pointed tapping draws his eye in the dark, and he makes a face, half skepticism, half amusement. ]

If you've changed your mind about taking potshots at raiders for fun, you already know you can count me out.

[ Despite his outward skepticism, though, he's already shifting to rearrange himself into a similar sprawl alongside Len. ]

Like I'd give up our position that easy.

[ Len scoffs, as though the mere suggestion is insulting to his dignity. Arcade doesn't need much convincing, however - he hunkers down easily, no fuss or argument, his interest probably piqued by the prospect of doing anything but waiting around. It's what Len is counting on, anyway.

He shifts onto one side to better face Arcade, gesturing that he lift an elbow, deftly maneuvering the butt of his rifle into the dip of the man's shoulder. His eyebrows raise - something visible even in the dim light - brooking no argument. ]

Hold it like I do. Elbow around the- yeah, like that. I'll show you how I line one up.

You mean you don't want to bring a whole horde of raiders down on our heads just to make things interesting?

[ Dryly. No, of course, they both know that's the last thing Len would prefer. And Arcade is way ahead of him, there.

He's also beyond bored enough to indulge Len's momentary inspiration to instruct, even if learning the exact methodology by which he turns a man's brains inside out from a mile on without warning interests Arcade just as little, in truth. He won't pretend it isn't impressive, in a gruesome, unfortunate way. Skill is skill, after all. But he can't see ever putting this particular one to much use, himself. ]

If this is all a ploy to make me look ridiculous, I feel like it's working.

[ He follows instruction, anyway, though, moving where Len guides him to as he tries to mimic that seemingly leisurely sprawl that he knows, unfortunately, by heart. The mingled smell of warm leather, the dirt beneath them, and the day's sweat, now long dry in the cool night air, as Len presses in makes a pleasant enough distraction that he doesn't complain again. ]

[ Arcade is a man of many things, but a man of taking outright action to separate someone's eyeballs from the rest of their skull with a well-timed shot? Decidedly not. Len won't begrudge him that, either - they both have their strengths and his just happens to be killing people from afar. ]

You afraid a gecko's gonna see you and judge you?

[ He laughs into the warm space between them, giving Arcade the space to shift into a position he sees Len take all the time. The rifle he tucks into the hollow of his shoulder, holding it with a care that Len appreciates - it's his prized possession, after all. Leaning on one elbow, Len slides a hand over Arcade's forearm where it rests on the ground, giving it a squeeze. ]

Ain't gotta hold it that tight. Relax.

the courier ★ fallout: new vegas ★ satyr

dream team [closed to arcade gannon]

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