Event - Heavy

[apocalypsehowmods]

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Heavy

➥ Deep

(cw: claustrophobia, existential dread, power loss, victim-blaming, time distortion, supernatural compulsion and hunger)

After the cold snap and plumbing issues comes the calm. For a few days, at least, nothing seems to break. Or break more than normal where the Flophouse is concerned. A heavy snow sweeps through and covers the streets. Not a blizzard, but thick white fluff that forms a blanket overnight. The snowplows aren't prepared and it's simply… quiet. People stay indoors, waiting for the weather to clear a bit. There are light flurries throughout the next few days, topping off the snowfall, and for the most part, the city just shuts down.

Even ADI puts out a notice that employees should stay home. Stay safe, stay cocooned in what warmth you have. Just… stay. Each day the message comes out from a generic work email, help@adi.com:

Shelter in place. No work today. Stay safe. We'll get by without you.

The next day is the same. The snow piles higher overnight, covering windows and freezing doors shut.

Shelter in place. No work today. Stay safe. We're s̴̳͘͠ͅt̶̨͂̍r̵̯̼͊͝ŭ̷͚̳g̶̠͋̓g̴̳̱̔͘l̸̤̻̎i̷̭͑͠ń̵̗͜͝g̷̤͂, but we'll get by.

Day after day. Frost creeps into the corridors of the ADI housing complex and the Flophouse. There is no food or other supplies coming and it feels like the hours are stretching out more and more.

Shelter in place. No work today. S̴̬̓t̸͉̿a̴̫̿ỳ̸͉ ̸̠̉s̸̲͆a̶͙͊f̶̢̏ē̷̤. We can't keep doing this, but we have to.

Attempts to leave the housing areas will be met with walls of snow that appear to be impossibly high. Around the flophouse, especially, it's as though they've been placed into the bottom of an icy hole. The walls stretch up higher than anyone can climb or fly, with only a pinprick of bluish light coming down from the opening above, deeper than anyone can dig through. Not even a magical portal or beam of heat can get through. There's just a wall of snow and/or ice through the portal and more snow beyond the beam. What's more, anyone who has supernatural abilities or is tied to a patron, even those not actively trying to feed that patron, will find themselves feeling increasingly drained, like something is sapping away whatever reserves they have, leaving them hungrier and hungrier, their powers waning by the minute, with a very limited set of options to feed upon.

S̸͉͗ḣ̷̦ȩ̵͒l̷͈̍t̸͎̽e̵̺̓ř̵̠ in place. No work today. S̴̬̓t̸͉̿a̴̫̿ỳ̸͉ ̸̠̉s̸̲͆a̶͙͊f̶̢̏ē̷̤. Why aren't they coming? This is their fault.

S̶͔͆h̸̅ͅȅ̴̮l̵̬̈́t̷̯́e̴̥̐ř̷̙ ̶̳̕ì̷̲n̵͓͌ ̷̮̋p̵̟̈́l̶̢̎a̷̺͠c̷̻̈́ḙ̵̊.̷̦̇ ̴̬̀N̸͕͌o̵͎̊ work today. S̴̬̓t̸͉̿a̴̫̿ỳ̸͉ ̸̠̉s̸̲͆a̶͙͊f̶̢̏ē̷̤. Why aren't ỹ̸̡͐ͅô̷͕̫ù̶̟̣͊ coming? Ḟ̴͓i̷̤͗x̶̨͝ ̴̜͒t̵̯̅h̴͔͛i̸͖̽s̶̱̚!

((ooc: Plain text versions of all messages are located here (LINK). You can also hover your mouse over the distorted text for hover text translations.))

➥ Chasm

(cw: warped perceptions, memory-loss, implied trauma, supernaturally-induced feelings of missing out)

You've missed a step.

After what seems an interminable time, someone is finally able to tunnel through, to get out of the massive snowy prison everyone has been trapped in and-

And the city looks normal. Checking the wall you just came through, it's not actually there. As soon as one person makes it out, the effect collapses for everyone. There's a wintry wonderland of Gloucester beyond, and it seems like things have gone on without everyone. But there is a sense in the air that something has happened, something earth-shattering that everyone missed out on.

People on the streets seem to have a look about them. Haunted? Something happened, but when they're questioned about it, they can't seem to come up with an answer as to what. They just seem… confused, overwhelmed. Yes, something happened. No, they can't tell you what. Weren't you here for it? Didn't you see it? Didn't you feel it? How could you have missed something that big?

That feeling will sit with characters as time passes, dragging down on them. It may even begin to feel like a physical weight for the most affected. You missed it. You could have done something to change things, but you missed it.

➥ Stuck

(cw: flooding; natural disasters; damage to homes, workplaces, and possessions; references to burial, suffocation, crushing, and murder; supernaturally induced anxiety, responsibility fatigue, and feelings of inadequacy; illness.)

The feeling of having missed something only intensifies back at ADI headquarters. It looks as though the storm itself attacked the building; several exterior doors have been broken off their hinges, ice expanded within the metal past its breaking point, and the expansive water damage and muck ground into the carpets, walls, and battered elevators conjure images of an indoor avalanche…or a glacier pushing its way through, slow but biting cold and utterly inexorable.

There's no time to dwell on what's happened, on the days of hunger and isolation nor whatever disaster occurred here. There's too much to do, too much to fix, one crisis after another. There's the obvious problem: the need to repair the building and proof it against the cold wind that still blows in across the foyer, but no matter one's work area there is more to do than can be done. Endless requests and projects flood in from every quarter, all of them urgent, all of them important. As soon as one thing is finished, three more problems emerge: contracts to manage, investigations to be made into reported phenomena, glitching computers to repair, vandals to repel from the gaping wound that is the lobby entrance in the middle of the night–the list goes on, and on, and on.

Rumors circulate, stories about a prisoner in the depths of the building's secret basements who disappeared into the crushing ice and grit that had filled the cells, disagreements about whether it was a rescue or if the unnamed prisoner was suffocated, snuffed out by some indiscriminately vengeful force. No one seems to know the truth; no one even seems to know the name of the prisoner, who they were, what they had done to end up there. No one has the time to look too deeply into it; even head of security Neil Grace, is caught leaping from task to task, never catching up long enough to turn his attention to the matter in any meaningful capacity.

The struggle to keep up, the futile effort to keep one's head above water, never relents. No matter one's priorities at work or at home, something is always wrong, always in need of attention, the knowledge of things undone needling at the edge of consciousness like a toothache in one's soul. The Flophouse is in a disastrous state worse even than ADI headquarters, a wild-eyed Bonnie all but pouncing on residents with an endless list of tasks to fix it, to make the building livable again. At the ADI apartments, exhausted caretaker Benny Holt seems to traipse up and down the halls at all hours of the day and night with his toolbelt, gaunt and exhausted and tapping at doors in reply to requests to fix plumbing, lighting, and water damage that never seem to stay fixed. Local staff and interdimensional residents alike begin to fall ill, bodies and minds burning out under the strain, but giving yourself time to rest and heal means piling more work on those around you.

There is no time. There is no rest. There is only the work you are failing to complete.

➥ Sink

(cw: claustrophobia, suffocation or near-suffocation)

As if that isn’t enough, there’s still investigative work to be done. Once again, it seems as if Coffins Beach is a site of interest, as ADI has been tipped off that there might be something (or things) in the water. Again.

For safety’s sake - and perhaps to make sure that no one collapses out there alone - pairs are sent out to the beach to keep an eye on the water and to see if anything interesting has washed up. Orders are to both watch the water and walk along the beaches and through the dunes nearby.

Watching the water doesn't seem to yield any results, no matter how long it's observed. Nothing washes ashore either. But then there's the dunes. Sooner or later, it seems like climbing them and walking among them is all there is to do. Anyone who has spent any time at Coffins Beach might notice that they seem a bit larger than they have been in months past. Not inconceivably, but noticeably. There are dunes tall enough to scale the sides up to the top, though some are still no more than little mounds.

It doesn't matter which, when you fall into it. Small hill or gentle mound, one minute you’re walking on the surface. The next minute, as you put your foot down, it begins to sink. It can't be sinking, of course, sand dunes on a beach don't have quicksand. They’re nothing but dense piles of sand. You can't fall into a sand dune.

You are falling into a sand dune. There’s a hole in the sand, just wide enough for your body and you have fallen into it. Perhaps you're a little bit lucky and your partner witnessed it. Maybe you aren't and you suddenly just disappear. It's a long fall, though, down a tube of sand that seems hard-packed around the edges. At first. The drop is just far enough that light can be seen from above, but not the top of the hole itself. Call out. You might be heard. And maybe your partner is already trying to get you out.

But the moment you hit the bottom, it seems like the hole becomes unstable. Especially if someone is above and trying to reach down. Even if they're not, though, sand begins to crumble from the edges and sides of the tunnel, falling down on the body trapped at the bottom of it. A slow trickle, not a burial. Not yet. Still, it could be, if rescue doesn't come, if the person left up above can't dig you out. Meanwhile, the sand falls and falls, pressing down on limbs and creeping up your body. It’s cold and struggling only seems to make the sand fall faster.

Surely you’ll be rescued before it covers you completely. Or soon after. Surely.

➥ Mod Notes

• GENERAL - Players are welcome to play NPCs for themselves when they are needed in a thread. If you need more information on general behavior for these types of NPCs, please feel free to ask! In general, the information provided in the prompts should be sufficient and ordinary people will act like… ordinary people! You're welcome to make up any details beyond that for your specific scene. Please remember that character deaths are permanent and plan accordingly!
  
  
• DEEP (16-20 February) - Characters will be trapped in their homes for five days, confined to either the Flophouse or the individual apartment buildings within the ADI complex. It will feel like significantly longer, even for characters with fully accurate internal clocks. Travel outside of these bounds will be impossible, even with the use of supernatural abilities. The network will be fully operational; though, not the regular internet or anything beyond the internal ADI network. Characters will also receive periodic messages from help@adi.com begging for help, even as they order everyone to shelter in place.
  
  Characters who are outside their homes when the snow starts will find they're able to get inside just fine, but will not be able to get out again. Characters may be trapped with people who are not their standard roommates/at their usual housing, if they're unlucky (or lucky).
  
  
• CHASM (21-24 February) - The first character(s) to break through the snow barrier will feel an especially powerful weight fall upon them before there's suddenly just… nothing. The snow walls are gone. Even if another character was in the middle of digging through, the snow is just there one minute, then gone the next. Characters will experience a profound sense that they have missed something. This may dissipate within a day or maintain over several days. Anyone trying to question residents of the city will receive confusion and incredulity, but no answers. There is no indication that anyone seemed to notice the walls of snow. Even some of the natives at ADI will be perplexed. All non-native NPCs and some native NPCs will have experienced the same thing as the PC characters.
  
  
• STUCK (21-28 February) - The need to be doing more than they can will be ever-present for all NPCs and player characters. Those who would choose to eschew responsibilities at work or try to reprioritize will find that there is always something in need of doing that is important to them, to the point where new problems may seem to arise in impossibly, almost cartoonishly quick succession. Tasks and problems can be mundane matters related to work, building repair, and living spaces; as well as minor supernatural occurrences similar to past Dogtown TDM prompts (players are welcome to make up small supernatural encounters; anything that would affect other characters beyond a single thread should be submitted as a player plot). Characters may find themselves feeling mentally foggy and struggling to focus on core issues in the face of this inundation of needs from the people and environment around them, and may fall sick from overwork. These effects will overlap with both the Chasm and Sink prompts.
  
  
• SINK (24-28 February) - Characters who find themselves falling into one of the dunes will end up in what appears to be a vertical tunnel that is definitely too high to climb back out of, regardless of how tall the dune actually seemed to be when they were on top of it. The temperature of the sand is very cold and in addition to possible suffocation, characters may find themselves slowly freezing. Struggling or rescue attempts will quickly make the walls of the tunnel unstable. Additionally, the tunnel may not be exactly straight, depositing characters slightly or more than slightly off of their original falling point.
  
  

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Comments

Jonathan Sims | OTA

[the_archivist]

Deep - Early
[Growing up next to the sea, Jon had rarely seen snow, and certainly never so thick and heavy as it is at the moment. It's exciting... at least for the first day. The deep silence of the world is relaxing, and it's beautiful in an austere sort of way.

And then it keeps falling, and suddenly it's less fun.

And he's bored.

He sets himself up in one of the shared areas with books and reports that he'd borrowed, reading and making notes just to keep himself from time dragging on.]

You can borrow something, if you want. Or if you have any other books or... something to do, I wouldn't mind a swap?


Deep - Late
[It starts with the boredom transmuting into lethargy. He sleeps a lot, but sleep has rarely helped in recent years. It's harder to concerntrate.

And the hunger...

He is so hungry. The Eye gnaws at him, and he is starving. His gaze flicks over words without understanding. It's like starving himself again, like being trapped in Forever Deep Below Creation and- oh, that's a revelation isn't it? But not enough to help.

He is hungry, and he can feel so many stories just waiting to be drawn out. It turns him into a predator, the pupil of the Eye, the Archivist, as he wanders the hallways.]


Chasm
[Even leaving doesn't help to reduce the hunger now it has been so awakened. The people outside, haunted and scared... it's a feast, and he needs to know.

He slips to the outskirts, searching for someone, someone who won't be too obvious.]

Tell me what happened...


Stuck
[It is good to have something to do. To keep him occupied, and Jon throws himself into it, reading reports and doing research. But there's always something more, another mote of information to chase up, a file to read, the documents seeming more and more disorganised, and he has to organise them, has to take control of it, has to prove himself... It's like the Archives all over again, and they'll find out won't they? That he's not qualified for this, that there's too much, and he can't live up to it and-

Oh.

He recognises this. The crushing weight of it, pressing down on him like wet earth or deep water. Like drowning and suffocating.

Maybe it's because for the first time since arriving, he is well fed. It grants clarity. He isn't in the coffin this time, but he thinks of Karolina Gorka, and thinks he knows what to do.]

Oh fuck off.

[He mutters it at the piles of paperwork. And then he lies down on the floor of his office and gives up. Stops working and lies there. He cannot fix this, he cannot get through all of the work. No-one could.

So he won't feed it.]

[OOC: Wildecard! Feel free to hit Jon up for more mundane things, or if you have something you specifically want to do! Also lmk if you want to have Jon take your statement and join his nightmare zoo!]

Stuck

[whisperedone]

[He'd offered to help, especially since he didn't have a speceific job yet, but everyone was sort of running about like there was so much to do. He felt it too, the need to do something, to help fix it all. His particular circumstances didn't help his options, however, so a harried person he'd tried to stop had simply pointed him in this direction.

Another set of hands and a sharp mind could be of use, right? He hoped so.

At least until he was in the process of opening the door (yes without knocking, he hadn't thought about it) when the very particular directive came and had Garner pausing.]

Ah. Well...I certainly can if that would be more helpful.

Re: Stuck

[the_archivist]

Oh, christ...

[Jon pushes himself up into a sitting position where he'd laid down on the floor. He peers towards the door, with an apologetic expression.]

Not you. Sorry. Did you need something?

[whisperedone]

[Garner steps a bit more into the room to be visible, albeit with a measure of uncertainty.]

I was merely checking to see if you could use some help. Someone mentioned you seemed...bogged down.

If you've already company, however...

[At least, that's his assumption: some unseen companion to whom the man was talking. Garner couldn't hear the shifting of another person, but that wasn't foolproof.]

[the_archivist]

No, no company. Just me.

And I'm fine. The paperwork can just... rot.

[whisperedone]

So…[He pauses as he fully comes into the room and closes the door behind him.] …you were telling the paperwork. To fuck off.

[He listens, head cocking to the side.]

I don’t know that it’s listening, by the sound of it.

[the_archivist]

...not exactly, but close enough.

[He should voice his suspicions, but that's more information than he wants to reveal to a stranger right now.]

It doesn't need to. It doesn't change my sentiment.

[whisperedone]

Right.

[He's still half tempted to just leave, but he'd wanted to offer help to someone and this someone seemed to need it.]

I'd offer to shake your hand, but I'm afraid I don't trust being able to find it. [He offers a small wave instead.]

I'm Garner. Somewhat new to all this still...but I can...toss the papers for you if you'd rather not work on them? Or maybe just join you on the floor.

[the_archivist]

Well, hello? Apologies in advance for when things try to horribly murder you or worse.

[He shrugs, which is relatively impressive when he's lying on the floor.]

Eh, leave them. They're- well, a bit of a trap. I would recommend ignoring tasks that are given to you beyond the norm. Don't let it push you into feeling buried in work.

[whisperedone]

[A trap? Well, okay then.]

Things could potentially try to murder me horribly back home as well. At least there are apparently no cults.

[That's what he'd been told by someone else here and he didn't seem to have a reason to lie.]

I don't know that I have a lot of work to bury myself in, but I...have been itching to help. You're saying try...not to help?

[the_archivist]

[Jon snorts at that.]

Oh, there are almost definitely cults. Supernatural entities which can bestow powers on people? There will be cults.

[Jon cocks his head slightly, trying to think about how to explain it.]

You've been given the introduction, yes? Various 'entities'. The Desolation, the Vast, etcetera?

[whisperedone]

Oh

[Well, yes, that's what he told Bruno, but no one else had confirmed or denied it, so while that isn't exactly comforting news, he's at least glad his gut instinct hadn't led him astray.]

Good to know, but yes, I have been given the introduction. These entities sound a little like slightly weaker Betrayer Gods. From my world, that is.

[Or other such entities people made pacts and things with.]

[the_archivist]

You'll have to tell me about those. Sounds interesting.

But yes... they're not strictly literal. Corruption doesn't have to be about rot or bugs, it could be a toxic love.

the Buried doesn't have to be... actually getting buried, it can be crushing debt, or... work piling up and never being able to complete.

I'm simply choosing not to feed it.

deep, late, as i show up late to this Also

[lowficharm]

[Okay, this... this is bad. It was one thing to be stuck and feel the paranoia edging at them, and another thing entirely to be so cut off like this. Martin is having to rapidly face a lot of things about the Lonely, and Jon-- gods, Jon-- of course he's not going to be handling any of this well. He had thought maybe they could isolate themselves, but it's eating at him worse by the moment and he just needs to see him and know there's still something, anything out there.

Never afraid of you, he'd said. Only for you. It's how he feels now, too.

If anything, it's not difficult to find him because there's a very limited amount of space they're in, and Martin approaches with his heart pounding in his ears.]

Hey, uhm... h-how are you feeling?

[the_archivist]

[Jon has wedged himself into a corner behind the sofa, and he grips the book he's failing to read with white-knuckled hands. He's sure it's a good book, but it holds about as much attraction to him right now as paint drying.

There are so many stories here. He can feel them, and it would be so easy to just find them. They can't even run right now.

He looks up sharply when Martin approaches, his expression softening.]

Hungry. I've- it's not good.

[lowficharm]

[It hurts to see him like this. He's trying not to fall into the spiral of thoughts, the idea that him being here is probably hurting Jon and he can't do anything right and he should just leave, but-- but no. No, he can't, and he won't.

He tries to make himself smaller, kneeling down and compressing his shoulders like he used to do so, so much.]

Yeah, I... yeah. I didn't think snow could do... this.

[They both know it's not just snow, and Martin shakes his head as if trying to clear the thought.]

I'm sorry. I know this is hard and I should let you just, get through it, I-- I just wanted to see you.

[the_archivist]

[He hates seeing Martin like this; making himself small. He reaches out towards him, wanting him close.]

I don't think it's just the snow. It feels like... a little like when we were in the house in Scotland. But after.

[That heavy feeling that had paralysed him for so long. Lethargy, exhaustion. Except he hadn't been hungry then.

He gives a small smile.]

I'm glad to see you too, Martin.

[lowficharm]

[Jon gives him an inch and Martin takes the mile, scooting in close. If Jon lets him, he'll just sort of pull him into his arms and hold him while they're having this talk, but he won't push if Jon gives any kind of resistance.]

Yeah, that-- that sounds the most like it, out of everything. It was... weird, not really knowing what time was doing anymore.

[Which is kind of the same. He had his own decoupling to do in that house after geting pulled out of the Lonely, but it wasn't like this. Not this kind of gnawing inside him that's sending his mind spiraling.]

I keep thinking it'd be better to leave you alone, like I don't want to-- bother you, or something. But now I'm wondering if it's even me thinking that, you know? How much is just... letting it get to me.

[the_archivist]

[Jon raises an arm to wrap it around Martin too. His reason, his tether to humanity, because no-one else had ever given him a reason.]

Time didn't exist then. A bit like when you're dreaming.

[It's much harder to grasp the concepts when he's here and more... human, not exactly the god of the apocalypse. And he'd never been good at explaining it anyway.]

You aren't bothering me. And that- I think it might be emphasising any connection we have to... well...

[lowficharm]

[It's easier to know something when it's just in your mind, all the connections already made. Harder to understand it as it's own thing, as it's own presence. Martin isn't thinking about it right now, not when Jon is here and warm in his arms, not when he has the chance to feel this instead of the damp, cloying mist of the fog on his skin.]

Yeah, it-- it has to be. I mean, I... I don't know. I didn't think a lot about it, during the apocalypse. I wasn't affected like you were, so I thought it wouldn't...

[He just sort of shrugs.]

I don't know what I thought. Taking care of you is more important anyway. Any way I can... do that, really. If I can.

[the_archivist]

If you'd wanted more, I think the Eye would have responded? It was fond of you, as much as an eldritch horror can be.

[Jon does wonder how much of that is bleed from him and his affection for Martin. Could something like that really influence the Eye?]

No, not any way. I don't want you sacrificing yourself for me, Martin.

[lowficharm]

[It could and probably did, frankly. After all, Martin was only so dilligent to the Institute for Jon, and all that Lonely stuff involved reading quite a number of statements. He did his time by the end of it. But at Jon's offer, he shakes his head.]

No, it-- I guess I could have, but I really thought I wasn't going to need to... deal with the consequences. So.

[He's far happier that Jon woke up and it all worked out, but it wasn't exactly in the plan.]

Besides, I think I've already tried the sacrifice route. And I'm not-- 'mm certainly not going to offer myself up as some kind of snack, or anything. I'd probably just be empty calories anyway.

[get it, because lonely, and-- it's fine, you get it]

[the_archivist]

That doesn't make it better. I- I should have been there.

[Should have been able to help Martin, to keep him away from Peter Lukas. But he hadn't been.]

I personally think any of the entities should be honoured to have you but also I don't want any of them near you.

[lowficharm]

Jon, you're-- you're not responsible for me.

[This is probably the wrong time to be saying this. This is probably the worst time to be saying it, actually. But the Lonely was never much divorced from Martin's distinct inclination to sabotage his entire life, so here they are.]

I mean, it's-- it's nice that you want to, you know, protect me and everything because people don't really do that for me, a-and all, but. Peter picked me because he knew he could convince me. That I wasn't already too far off to begin with, and under the circumstances... you know.

[He shrugs, as if hoping that will supplement what the 'you know' part of that was.]

It's not like I'm a trapped princess or something. I'm just... me? We're just us. Trying our best with what we have.

[the_archivist]

But I am!

[He says it earnestly, impassioned.]

I ended the world, Martin. Everything is my responsibility. And I have to keep you safe.

[Because what's the point otherwise? If he loses Martin then he doomed other worlds for nothing.]