lifeaftr | September Intro: Can't You See It On the Horizon

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September Intro: Can't You See It On the Horizon

INTRO LOG: SEPTEMBER

Who: New arrivals, and you!
What: New souls arrive to the archipelago of LifeAftr
When: September 4th and onward
Where: Both Nastrandir and Ensō
Warnings: Mark as needed!

The island of Nastrandir remains present in the archipelago, just as it has been for the past month. By now, all the kerfuffle of the previous month's events seems to have died down as well. No more shrieking sirens, at least! There might still be an automaton or two left wandering the place, but that's only if you're unfortunate enough to run into them. They don't seem to be seeking anyone else out.

That's not to say these next few days are going to be uneventful, however.

New arrivals may awake at either island. Or they may wander between the two!

Nastrandir: Would It Keep You Awake
There's something staining the skies over Nastrandir - specifically, toward the island's east. A dark blot of something dark, possibly smoke, or steam, has started to leak lazily from some of the mountain peaks and spiral into the sky, prompting a faint rumble beneath your feet. An earthquake? Is this another island with a slumbering volcano to contend with?

As it turns out, the source of this clamor isn't an earthquake at all. It's the pounding of feet thundering ever closer.

The wildlife of Nastrandir is on the move.

You'll run into them in droves as they bolt frantically toward Nastrandir's western regions - as far away from the mountain ranges as possible. It doesn't seem to matter what kind of creature they are: from the relatively docile veep to the pesky pyjacks to the predatory rocobra, you'll recognize all sorts engaged in an out-and-out stampede away from the mountain at Nastrandir's easternmost point with a frantic scramble that one could only describe as terrified. Even the winged creatures seem desperate to get away. Anyone at the westernmost coastlines might even see some of these animals, driven so wild with their apparent need to escape, launch themselves into the sea and, inevitably, drown trying to swim away from the island itself.

It can be unsettling to watch. More worryingly, however, it can be dangerous. It's terribly easy for one to get swept up in this tide of moving hooves, scales, fur, and flesh and get launched into the ocean waves yourself. That's to say nothing of one particular beast, one that you don't recognize.

It's big. It's green. And it wants YOU...to get out of its swamp.

Noinos have now been unlocked in the bestiary!

In all likelihood, you'll be hearing this wandering foe approaching before you see it. The noino is a loud, lawless creature that wanders swamps and marshy areas in a vaguely nomadic fashion, hunting prey and searching for something that might satiate its irrepressible bloodlust. Noinos aren't so much territorial as they are outright aggressive - if they sight something that looks like it might be edible or capable of putting up a fight or both, they will rush it indiscriminately with a guttural, wordless roar.

While inarticulate, the noino isn't stupid: it has the know-how to formulate tools and can craft rough armor from sturdy bits of tree and the hides and bones of its slain enemies. Most noinos carry weapons, though seldom anything more sophisticated than a heavy club or bludgeon.

A noino's impressive stature can reach up to nine feet in height, rivaled only by its breadth and girth. The good news is that its hide, though thick and tough, is more akin to leather than it is armor, and can be easily pierced and damaged through conventional means with enough force. Still, the sight of something large, greenish, and armed coming barreling at you, hooting excitedly and eager for a fight, might not be the scariest thing you've ever seen - but it might come close.

They're not the most cunning of creatures, either. Which is why, when presented with an opportunity to fight, they will promptly forget that they were fleeing from anything - and decide to charge you head-on, instead.

Ensō: If the Waters Rise and Took Your House Away
Some of you remember that the island of Ensō has now well-established security system in the form of bird-like drifts of paper. Some of you may remember even earlier that this security system was crafted specifically to combat a particularly persistent foe. And for those of you who have been with us for a good long while, you might even remember when you woke to find much of the island in the process of being submerged.

There are no wobbling, hulking waves menacing the island and plunging everything into darkened shadow. Instead, the water lapping up against the shore will begin to creep onto land, steadily, steadily, inching along the shoreline in a way that might be very familiar, to some. It moves in a way that water definitely shouldn't be moving...and just like before, it seems to be doing this for the express purpose of seeking travelers out. It oozes up along the beaches, slinks over rocks, climbs up trees, and coats nearly everything in a thin layer of rippling ocean water.

Since you all took the time to make this island secure against all invaders, this incursion isn't going to be taken quietly. Here and there, you'll be spotting flocks of paper birds swooping down onto the watery progression, dive-bombing it with flurrying pages and ink, and attempting to drive it back. If you stay close to these "birds," you'll be safe enough from the water, and whatever it's whispering. You might even be able to pitch in and help by disrupting its path, and fighting the water back as much as you physically can.

But if you're so inclined, you could stop and have a listen to what the water has to say.

The last time travelers found themselves enveloped by the water, they received only vague images that pointed to a definitive goal. This time, things are a little different.

Anyone who gets close enough to the water for it to reach them will hear it: a soft, indistinct voice, whispering. The closer it gets, the more you'll start to hear the words.

"Take up my arms. Carry my protection."
No matter what you say in response or how long you wait, these are the only words you'll hear. It's best not to let it get too close to you, either; if left unchecked, the water will slip over you until you're coated head to toe and you can hear nothing but the soft streams of bubbles and the whispers of that strange voice, until you try and struggle free. It won't resist, should you pull away. But you will find that any electronics that get too close to the water or become submerged into it will react very strongly, with much twitching and sparking as though undergoing water damage, assuming they're not already broken - and those of you who have mechanical parts or are mechanical in nature will discover this a little more vigorously.

The words, though...they're not all talk.

If you follow the water as it recedes, you'll discover that a trail of silvery bubbles will manifest to form a sort of trail. Following it will involve diving beneath the waves, so it's recommended that you divest yourself of anything that might suffer additional water damage.

But if you follow the trail of bubbles closely, about twenty feet from the shoreline, jutting out from the sand of the seafloor, you'll find...a gift.

Anyone who claims this gift will find it very light and easy to maneuver, and sized perfectly to suit them. Whatever material the trident is made of is sturdy and apparently nigh-indestructible. When the butt is planted into a source of water, the tines will light up with a blueish, watery glow. Once they are fully "charged," so to speak, one will find that they can launch a powerful jet of water at a range of up to fifteen feet in either a continuous stream or a flurry of various water-pellets. Once it runs out of its charge, one only needs to place it in another source of water to charge it again.

It's a gift. And, for now at least, it appears to come with no strings attached.

Enjoy it.

All new arrivals will awake with knapsacks, their names stitched to the front. The contents of said knapsacks can all be found in your acceptance notices!

As a final note to those who participated in the Test Drive Meme, bear in mind that those threads, if all parties involved would like, can be game canon in the form of dream-like memories involving a place very much like this one, though the layout is considerably different.

Feeling a tad adrift? Make sure to check the Locations Page, which has details regarding the starting areas and a handy map for those who feel better with a bird's eye view!

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

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How many times did you try this?

[Clearly he timed it. But, more importantly.]

When did you try this?

I dunno. Like four times? [He's just pointedly not answering the other question.] I looped around once and I thought it was a fluke so I did it a couple more times to make sure. It's kind of fun.

Just...for kicks?

[He's pretty sure it wasn't just for kicks. He's really, really sure it wasn't just for that.]

No, Tim. For science. For knowing.

[On one level: true. On another level: the lie he told himself to justify trying to sail off the edge of the world only to find out the Storyteller wouldn't even let him do that.]

Also one time I forgot to anchor the Jackdaw while I was taking a nap and ended up on the other side of Ensō while I was sleeping when that definitely wasn't the direction I was sailing.

[That's absolutely a lie, because he's too meticulous about the whole process of sailing to "forget" something like that, but it's just plausible enough he thinks it might pass for an excuse. A benefit of never telling anyone about yourself is a lot of things that don't actually make sense are just plausible enough people will accept them as truth.]

[And 'cause he doesn't care what happens to him? Because he just...doesn't tend to, for reasons that Tim is wholly and entirely too clear on.]

I'm glad it didn't kill you.

[That's the most he can say with any certainty.]

I do sometimes, like. Consider my own mortality before I do things.

[Not very often, but occasionally. Did he do it before finding the edge of the map? Uh. Well. No, but the point still stands. He totally and definitely, like. Considers whether something will kill him before he does it, like, at least 4/5 times he does something incredibly dumb.

Does it have any bearing on whether or not he does something? Bold of you to assume he's considering it to do a cost benefit analysis and not just doing it as an idle thought.]

Which sounds unrealistic now that I've said it out loud.

[It didn't kill him, but a...Shrek did. Which is par for the course for the kind of shit that Connor, apparently, gets into.]

I mean, considering that you just died, maybe, yeah.

[Great timing for the sappy shit, Tim.]

Listen. The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math.

[¯\_(ツ)_/¯ He's gay, he doesn't know how to do math.]

Calculated? You tried to tame an ogre.

[YOU JUST SAID THAT YOU SOMETIMES THINK YOU'RE GOD.]

[This is just one of those memes that Tim Doesn't Get, just like 90% of the memes Connor says.]

I have an overinflated image of myself and I'm clearly only half as hot as Fiona instead of equally hot.

[Connor is actually. Extremely aware he should at least brush his hair. To, you know. Qualify for being attractive instead of a feral gremlin child.

But also that's not as funny to say and he only really cares about how funny something is to say.]

You realize that I don't know who that is, right?

[He's at least reasonably sure that they don't have a Fiona on these islands. If they do, he's not aware of it.]

Can't believe you don't know the greatest love story of all time, Shrek.

[He is . . . 100% serious about that. Megamind is a clear close second. Also he appreciates Shrek for memes, but.]

It's a sweeping tale of inter-species love between the beautiful princess Fiona and the ogre Shrek who saves her at the behest of some shitty guy named Farquad. He's not important. Nobody cares about him, he's short.

[Infrequent reminder that Connor is a six foot tall noodle boy.]

I didn't get a lotta time to catch up on movies I missed out on growing up. And the ones I did watch, I don't always remember.

[The pitfalls of memory problems.]

Yeah, none of that rings a bell. Guess we really do have to try and get a TV in here at some point, huh?

How many stories would that even cost?

[He's bad at math, but also:]

And could I potentially just make a bunch of puppets and subject the entire island to my Shrek retelling, thus making the Storyteller even more done with my shit?

I mean, yeah, I dunno if it's even possible. But Ren's never seen TV before. Think of how many other people have no idea what a TV even is.

[Then again, Tim has no idea what a Shrek even is. He kind of does now? Kind of.]

What makes you think they're done with your shit?

Somebody once told me.

[You'd think at some point Connor would stop saying memes to communicate a point, but it's almost involuntary.]

Actually it's more that every time I talk to them they're kinda just fondly exasperated like a sitcom father.

"Fondly," huh?

'S better than them slamming the door on you, I guess.

[He wasn't there for that, but he heard a little something about it. Not that he reaches out to the Storyteller often. Or at all. He doesn't trust like that.]

The Storyteller is way more, like. Tired millennial than the other gods who are all, like. Yoga wellness moms who think juice cleanses cure depression.

[Connor has God Opinions.]

Except for Bliss, who was like a 4chan neckbeard living in their mom's basement, and Harv, who is like the cantankerous grandpa who lives in that house everyone thought was haunted and if your ball landed in his yard it was better to just leave it there even though he's really nice.

[It's entirely possible he's just describing the Aviator from The Little Prince movie.]

[Tim opens his mouth to counter some of those presumptions, and then closes it.]

How do each of those sound...weirdly accurate?

[More importantly, Connor, how do you manage to be so perceptive and yet unable to turn that same amount of introspection on yourself.]

You talk to a lotta them?

I talk to most of the gods, but talking to Balance is like talking to a chat bot that hasn't learned racism yet. Or what a sheep is.

[Connor is incredibly intelligent and well-read, which gives him the ability to be unusually perceptive and also means he just has a lot of Really Specific Descriptions of people. The problem is that everyone's their own worst critic and he doesn't have enough distance from himself to be a good judge.

Also Miguel was right: Connor is unfathomably nice, at his core. He used to feed kittens. He wanted to be Spider-man so he could save the world. He only learned how to be mean and sarcastic as a defense mechanism and he doesn't know how to turn that instinct off anymore because he's spent so long just trying to take care of himself that he doesn't remember what it's like to be kind without restrictions.]

I like the Storyteller. They're constantly exhausted and want to take a nap, which is a mood.

[To call it "trust" would be a reach, particularly since Tim himself is so averse to the word, to the concept, in general. But when Connor admits to liking a particular god, he'd be lying himself if he said that he didn't quietly take that into account.]

They're constantly exhausted?

Wouldn't you be exhausted if you had to keep an entire universe running?

[He says this like it's a natural conclusion. The Storyteller once told him that nothing would stay, besides Ensō, and implicitly told him that the floating islands were basically the clay from which the islands they visit are made. Therefore, the Storyteller is keeping the entire place running. It's why the storytellings are important. It's why bad things happen when the Storyteller doesn't have enough of them.]

It's hard to keep a story going continuously without, at some point, jumping the shark.

[Which is why Connor likes the Storyteller, to a certain extent. They keep going, even when the story is difficult to tell. There's a metaphor in there, but he's not going to examine it too closely.]

...okay, fair point.

[He doesn't think consciously about this kind of stuff, it's fair to say. He just thinks about it when it starts affecting his daily life, and that's maybe the most average kind of reaction someone could have to this kind of thing. Not really concerned for the Storyteller's well-being, or personhood, or...anything, really.]

[He hasn't really made an effort to understand them. That's a familiar kind of guilt.]

I guess that's why we're here.

Yes and no. Yes, in that we're also keeping this place running. No, in that I think -

[Connor hesitates. It's not that he doesn't know what he thinks, but he's so used to people telling him he's overreacting that he almost reflexively doesn't want to appear too crazy.]

- haven't you ever wondered about why the other islands don't exist anymore, if they did before and they have their own histories? Are. Are they memories, or are they being pulled here from someplace else, like Mu? The question is really: are we the protagonists of this story, or are we the villains in someone else's?

[He has a lot of time to think about this stuff. There's a lot of hours in a day and only so many taxing ways to spend them.]

[Oh, jesus. This is getting existential, and Tim's pretty sure that this is way above his intellectual pay-grade. He's not smart. At least, he doesn't think of himself as smart.]

Memories?

[The thought hadn't really occurred to him. The idea of memory at play in any grand sense...]

[He frowns.]

If they're memories, what happens if they get forgotten? Or if parts of them get forgotten?

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