lifeaftr | March Undercurrent: Lost Connections

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March Undercurrent: Lost Connections

MARCH UNDERCURRENT

Who: Everyone!
What: We remember those lost, and connect with one another
When: March 3rd to March 19th
Where: Everywhere!
Warnings: Please mark anything as it comes up!

From Stardust to God

Those months since the Water's introduction to you all have been...tumultuous, haven't they? These two gods have more or less been trying to consistently undermine each other, and you all have been caught in the middle of it - whether or not you wanted to be! Kind of a miserable state of being to be stuck in, right?

All that is going to change.

For the duration of this particular month, both the Storyteller and the Water will be operating under a tentative ceasefire as they commit their efforts to one singular, joint goal:

They wish to remember those who have been lost. Those who have left the archipelago, those who have died, those who have come and gone, those who you lost in your homes...and these gods will be, also, commemorating those who they have lost.

This commemoration will be facilitated with the use of memorials and offerings to those long past.

The Storyteller will provide you with materials to craft paper lanterns that can be illuminated and sent sailing into the ocean waters. They can be decorated with colorful paper, cut designs, and so forth. The Water will guide the currents to allow the lanterns to drift to...wherever it is they need to go. You can send as many lanterns as you like, and as many nights as you like. The skies will always be clear, and the water will always guide them to the horizon, where they eventually fade from view...

Both the Storyteller and the Water will be available for discussion for the duration of this event.

The Highs We Trade for the Lows

This month isn't only about remembering what's been past. To conjure Ai'tuoh back to the archipelago, it will also entail that all of you do some reflecting on what has been lost in your lives, and sharing in that pain together. This may be a somber month for some of you, or it may be an introspective one.

At any point during this event, your character may wake to discover that one or more thin threads of colorful light appears to be emanating from their chest and trailing through the empty air. These threads cannot be removed or influenced in any fashion; attempting to grab at them will simply cause one's hands to phase uselessly through them, as though they are ethereal constructs of some sort.

The purpose of these strands of light might not immediately be apparent, but if you spend enough time observing your fellow islanders, it might get a bit clearer. Each tether connects you to someone else - someone who has a pain similar to your own. Should you follow your tether to whoever it has linked you to, you may find yourself compelled to comfort or relate to the other party. This compulsion can honestly vary, from a gentle nudge to a sudden impulse and anything in between. There may or may not be a subtle pressure on your thoughts that may help you discern what you might have in common with this other person, whoever they might be.

This facet of this event is completely opt-in, naturally, and we encourage you to interpret this however you like. What counts as shared pain? It can be as literal or as figurative as you like. Whether characters underwent the same events in this game or another, or whether there are certain parallels you wish to explore within certain canons or across multiple ones...or if you just want your character to have a nice sit down and talk about their problems for once, the choice is yours. Your character can be connected to as many others as you like - there is no limit to how many characters you can share any related trauma with!

Should you choose to reflect on that which you have endured, and the shared pain of others, what follows is fairly intuitive. The tether binding you together will fade, though hopefully a stronger bond will be forged, and ideally you'll all feel better afterward...but that's not necessarily a given, now, is it?

This is No Place Like Home

Of course, there's a lot going on in the background as well. You're free to use this log as a catch-all for the duration of February's Undercurrent Event, as well as any of the other minor events listed on our Monthly Rundown post. And, of course, you are always free to create your own individual logs and posts as needed.

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask them over on the Questions header on our Monthly Rundown post!

March Timeline

[ ♆ ] March 1st: "The Return of Your Special Lifting Friend" begins and lasts until March 10th
[ ♆ ] March 3rd: "Lost Connections" begins and lasts until March 19th
[ ♆ ] March 12th: "Spring Forth" begins and lasts until March 21st
[ ♆ ] March 20th: Ai'tuoh returns to the archipelago
[ ♆ ] March 22nd: "The Happy Hang Glider Vacation Society" begins and lasts until March 31st

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Time?

[The Storyteller sighs, and the weight of the word feels so, so incredibly heavy.]

A difficult concept indeed. Perhaps this pain ought not to be so raw by now, and yet it feels as recent as if it had just happened. Perhaps it is what I deserve. Time was never on my side.

Welcome to the club; we'll make jackets.

...Why do you think you deserve it, though?

...have you ever...learned something about yourself?

[The Storyteller sounds, abruptly, uncertain - almost childlike in that uncertainty, as though beseeching the counsel of an adult.]

Something you had not considered previously, something you had no means of conceptualizing, something you did not miss because you could not have missed something you did not know you had lost...?

[It seems that some of that question was similarly lost, wasn't it?]

[Church goes very, very still. The pain is...well, it's still there obviously, but after the flowers, after pouring the story out to Legion, and after several several conversations with Wash over his time here, it's not the kind that makes him want to immediately yell and run away.

It's not necessarily a conversation he wants to have again or keep having, but he's the one making lanterns for pieces of his own shattered psyche, so.

Eventually, Church nods, settling himself heavy on the ground as comfortably as he can. This is gonna be a Thing, and he needs to not run from it.]

Might surprise you, but I have had that exact thing happen to me.

[A soft sound, almost like a choking, or maybe like a sob hastily aborted, in the back of their throat. They do not truly need to breathe, and yet it feels as though they are having difficulty drawing breath.]

How did you...live with yourself after?

[Enormous #mood from the robot that does not, technically, need to breathe. He's kind enough not to comment on it. Shit's a big deal.]

Well...for me, I kinda--I didn't? [He laughs, awkwardly, rubbing the back of his helmeted head.] I kinda had a whole-ass revelation dropped on me and then dropped dead like half an hour later.

Aaaand then I was here. And living with it since...uh. Not well? It's gone mostly not well. [He drops his hand and curls in more, arms around his knees.] In that I was actively ignoring it because I was pretty sure if I spent more than five minutes at best thinking about it, I was just gonna go insane or scream myself back to death or snap and go on a rampage or something else really awful.

It's still not easy to deal with. I don't...like talking about it, even if I've had to a couple times. I can at least admit it and stop pretending like I'm talking about someone else entirely, but it's still...

...It still sucks, and it still hurts, and it still makes what's left of my brain to go spiraling out of control if I stare down that rabbit hole too long. [Is it still no pun intended when the Storyteller isn't even a rabbit right now?]

You talk to anyone about it?

[The Storyteller listens with an intent expression, almost a desperate one. He died. He had to live with it after, and he hasn't taken to it well. Not well at all. And he is - well, he's not as long-lived as a god, now, is he? How are they supposed to manage something like that, when their ability to rampage has so many potential repercussions that could be felt by everyone?]

You would be the first.

[It wasn't intentional that they chose him to confide in over this; they hadn't realized just how closely their stories were aligned in some respects. Perhaps he just...happened to be the first to ask.]

I am not sure how to...speak of it. How to admit to it. I am not the most trustworthy entity; I know that. Many of you have plenty of reasons to despise me.

[Their fingers curl into the sand.]

...many of you have valid reasons to do even worse.

I mean...listen, I'm not your biggest fan. We don't really talk, and I haven't really been doing the storytelling thing. I've got what I feel is a healthy wariness of you gods. I don't really trust you guys, but I don't hate you, so I mean.

[Yeah. That. He shrugs.]

I'm here, which means I'm alive a little longer. Even if sometimes I think the places that drift by really suck. Some of them don't! A lot of times they do. But. [He waves a hand, shaking his head.] Beside the point.

Point is, yeah, it's hard to know where to start. When your head's all jumbled up, when thinking about it makes your chest hurt to bursting, when every atom of your being wants to get away from it as fast as possible. When there's so much you don't even know where to start because what even is the start of it?

Mine doesn't even start with me. Well, it doesn't start with me as I am. It starts with another guy entirely.

And I'll tell you what, most of the lanterns I'm making have a heavy hand in the...thing. Trauma? I guess we can definitely call it trauma if we wanna just call a spade a spade.

So. You can take your time. Or if you don't wanna even try talking about it, god knows I've super literally screamed at Wash in the middle of trying to talk things out only to have the fight or flight instincts kick in. 's okay. We could all use a lot more therapy than probably exists in any one given universe.

[The Storyteller digests that quietly. Then, at the end of it all, they utter a sad, watery little chuckle.]

You are not half bad at this, I should think. Or at least...I suppose there is something to be said for your honesty.

[He does not mince his words.]

[They can appreciate that.]

A pity that there is no god for "therapy." I think that this... [They gesture at the display of lights, settling out across the water.] - this may be the closest that my kind can get.

I'll take it as the compliment it's intended as instead of as a reminder of how fucked up my entire situation is.

[Not that he has a mouth, but it's real easy to imagine a smirk. It might even be edging into a smile.]

I'd offer up a hug or something, but probably the only guy around who'd be less comfy to hug would be Héctor. Imagine the floating ribs poking you.

My form is physical sorely for your benefit, in any case.

[They need not be physically perceptible to be perceptible, and they do so to allow islanders the...ease of speaking to something they can recognize. Some physical form they can project onto.]

...but thank you, regardless. For the offer, even if you are by no means obligated.

Oh. Well--makes sense.

But hey, for real though, if you ever figure out how to talk about the whole awful learning something about yourself that you didn't have the means of remembering on your own and the entire dissociation and existential horror that comes from trying to rapidly reevaluate your sense of self thing, I'm all ears.

Shit's not easy to talk about, but...but I guess it's kind of nice to say something to someone who has any kind of inkling of understanding.

Do you take responsibility for the things that you did, even if you do not remember them? Do you accept those things as a part of you, or do you...reject them, as they are not who you are? Does who you were become who you are, regardless of how little you remember of who you were?

[Existential questions? You got it.]

...You don't pull any punches, huh.

[Not a complaint, just, he's got to think about this one.]

I do feel responsible. It's easy to not be blamed, to be told, y'know, that's not who you are, all that. And maybe the only one who blames you is you. But...it was still me. Either something I did directly or something that happened because of me. And maybe I can forgive myself, just a little, for the latter.

Like, it's easy for me to say "fuck you, that wasn't even me, I'm not that guy, I don't even remember any of that", because it's true. But do I feel responsible? Yeah. Actually taking that responsibility, eh...I guess...I guess I'm kinda in the middle there. I think there might be a middle ground, anyway, or at least I hope so. To accept that these things happened, that you did them, even if not you as you know yourself, but to understand you're not that anymore.

So I mean, I'm getting to a point where I stop talking about the guy I used to be in the third person, with another name. Not always, I'm still getting used to it, but I can...I can call him me, I can acknowledge that's the same person, in some way. Is all that happened part of who I am? Well, it's part of my history. It may or may not literally be part of me anymore, but it happened to me, around me, because of me.

It's hard not to feel guilty, at least, and...and if other people responsible aren't gonna take the blame, isn't it the least I can do that I do?

[Again, the Storyteller falls quiet for a long time as they grapple with those questions, with that answer.]

...I see.

At what point do those sins of your past become...unforgivable? If there is no one else to shoulder that blame, then perhaps...perhaps it should be me who carries it. Perhaps there is no other option. If it was me who did this, a version of me that I do not - that I resent, that I hate - it was still - that was still something I was capable of.

Perhaps that is my story. Perhaps that...is the only ending I might hope for.

I don't think they do become unforgivable. In situations like ours. I know our cases aren't gonna be the same, and we're gonna be outliers for having weirdo situations anyway, but if I traced back everything that some version of me did and decided, yes, I did that, then--it wouldn't really--it's more complicated than that.

[There's nobody alive or dead who knows Church who would compare him to the Director in any capacity. They are Leonard Church, but they couldn't be more different. The second Alpha was created, a different person was born. Or so whatever bits and scraps of AI theory he's been given or exposed to seems to suggest.]

Say in the past, something I don't remember, something I can't remember, something that any sane and rational person such as myself would hate and rail against, say a person who was for all intents and purposes me did a lot of heinous shit. Law breaking, psychological fuckery, torture, everything short of necromancy, all kinds of shit. That would be unforgivable. Say that happened, and that's me.

But it's not me. Now. As I am. And it's not something I could ever be again. Some version of me, way in the past, somewhere else, was once capable of it. Now I'm not.

I'm not saying it alleviates any personal guilt, because guilt is a weird complicated thing that the logical side of the brain isn't always able to get through. And I'm not saying that you should shed the weight of blame, either. I'm just saying...I don't think it gets to the point of unforgivable.

Or at least, I really fucking hope it doesn't.

The person you are now is...you are your own person. Is that it?

[Perhaps it's not such a strange concept for a god, but their memory is...it is under different strains than those of a mortal. Or those of a digital remnant. Whichever you prefer.]

I suppose if questions such as these had easy answers, there would not be thinkers and philosophers. If the impetus behind mistakes is to learn from them, it seems rather self-defeating that some of us are doomed, destined even, to only recall our mistakes when it is too late to do so.

Identity's kind of a big deal. For people in general, but also for people who uhhhhhhh have issues figuring out who they are when everything they thought they knew was a lie? So. It's. Yeah, it's a sticky and tricky sorta thing.

They say doing the same thing multiple times and expecting a different result is the definition of insanity. Maybe people who don't remember what they've done have a predisposition to insanity.

Or perhaps it is the world that has lost its mind, and we are all doomed to concede to its nature.

[They almost seem like they might laugh at that, utter a bitter, hoarse sort of sound. But they quiet instead, lower their head once more.]

[If it is the world that has succumbed to madness, then whose fault is that?]

I think musing on the universe itself is gonna be a philosophical step too far for me. Not unless I get drunk real fast.

...Not sure if I can do that. Which is a real shame.

Like. Life is already so goddamn weird, I don't know if there's any kinda order to the world or not. Maybe if there was, I wouldn't have experienced half the crazy shit I have. Who's to say. I'm not a god. No offense.

Why would that be any offense? A god's world hardly makes any sense to the god, let alone to many of the mortal creatures that inhabit it.

Perhaps that is the crux of it all. That there is no sense to any of this, but the sense that we ascribe to it.

I can't tell if that's cynical or realistic. Or. Both, I guess. One would hope a god could make sense of their world, but like, that's a lotta stuff to juggle. Kind of a miracle the sky's blue and the air's oxygen, huh?

Particularly as I'm not meant to be in charge of any of it. I am a Storyteller. I am not a builder of worlds...or rather, I am not a builder of real worlds. I build fiction. I do not...

[They trail off.]

[Well, perhaps that much was obvious.]

So that's why there's crazy shit on every other island we come across? Because it's some kind of fiction? And we tell you stories, and maybe you incorporate some of that in your fictional-but-real world?

Not precisely. That...that which you run into on other islands...

[A sigh, defeated and resigned.]

It's Mu, you see. Mu is a land of dreams. It adapts what it feels. It interprets. It is a powerful, powerful realm, and it is not mine. And so when a will is strong enough, profound enough...it shapes the world around it.

March Undercurrent: Lost Connections

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