come_sailaway | Welcome To The Village

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Welcome To The Village

Who: Everyone who was signed-up for the excursion
What: The Village December Excursion
When: Dec 1st - Dec 23rd
Where: The Village
Warnings: Involuntary capture and confinement including immobilization and restraints, violence, injury, maiming, possibility of death, torture, coercion, gaslighting, mind control, drugging, scientific experiments, and extremely inaccurate depictions of mental health facilities/hospitals, among other potentially triggering themes. Please mark all threads appropriately.

"Good morning, good morning, good morning!" A voice that sounds very similar to Friday's chirps over a loudspeaker outside your character's home. Yes, their home.

Overnight, all the passengers who signed up for this excursion have been transported to their very own personal cottages. They will awake in a bed that is familiar to them. While this home of theirs does not necessarily have to resemble the place they were born or raised, it will be a perfect replica of a place they truly thought of as their home, down to the most minute details.

The cottages are self-contained, the size of a large studio apartment so, in some cases, they may only resemble the bedroom and living room of a person's home with a shrunken-down kitchenette and bathroom adjoined. But the heirlooms of their past are here. A favorite doll? A treasured family portrait? Trinkets you have long forgotten about? All of them will be here, somehow. (All except for weapons, that is.) They are indistinguishable from the real item, down to the molecule.

After that wake-up call, the voice continues on to express that the weather will be warm and sunny, with no rain forecasted. A brass band concert is announced, to start at noon on the lawn next to the living chess set. And once that bit of news is wrapped up, lively marching band music will begin to play. And it will continue to play. All day. From every speaker...including the ones hidden in their home.

Welcome to Your Village

It only gets stranger from here. Characters may be dismayed to find that they are without any of their original clothes or belongings. They awake in conservative button-up pajamas. The closet in their home is full of the latest Village Fashion to choose from. Everything is The Village label brand, including the tin cans of food that stock the kitchen and any of the groceries you could get at the General Store.

Your ship phone rings. When you answer it, you will be greeted, once again, by the voice of Friday. "Your number, please? Of course, you have a number. Look at your badge." If they look down at their chest, they will discover a small round number badge has been pinned to their pajamas. Was that there before? It bears the symbol of a Penny-farthing Bicycle, with a number in the spokes. This is their number.

"No names here," the voice of Friday chides, "Only numbers. Number 2 would like a word with you at the Green Dome. He requests you come for breakfast. Thank you!" Before they can protest further, the line goes dead.

Some Notes:

No matter how many times your character tries to take off and disregard their number badge, they will always find it re-attached to their clothes again the moment they look away and look back.

Your characters still have their phones but now they can only make calls instead of sending texts. They also do not take or store photographs anymore.

If your character destroys or damages anything in their home, or in The Village it will instantly repair the way things used to on the Serena Eterna.

The noise from the speakers can be muffled by covering it with pillows or other creative items, but cannot be stopped entirely. (Sorry Phil)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yeah your place is suuuuuch a nightmare." She's popped her head in a few times now and it ultra sucks. Especially the noise. It's honestly a miracle that Pratt's as cool and chill as he is considering everything.

She just pets his head and nods. "Oh my god right? They totally should. I forgot how much I missed this smell until I got back here! Maybe when we get back, Sundries will give us both candles of this smell."

"Oh man that'd be great." He manages to sit up, leaning into those head pets like a sad dog at the pound. "I don't even get the point of this place. Other than my shithole, everyone else seems to just have gotten normal rooms. So like... what's the deal?"

Oh he's soooooo cute when he's all traumatized and eager for human contact. No wonder those weirdos kept him for so long and kept messing with him. Flan ends up shifting behind Pratt, encouraging him to lean against her so she can just keep petting his hair and let him still relax.

"I dunno! It's weird. I think a lot of people got like, whatever they'd consider their homes? I got my apartment, and Tayrey got her ship quarters but she says they didn't get the smell and sounds right, and oh my god you should see what April got. But some guys got weird super hostile shit too, just like you. I think it's like how the ship picks on some people harder than others. It's bullying you." She slings her other arm around his chest. "It's emotionally beating you up so they can steal your lunch money."

He is just utterly pathetic at times. Really the marching band music should change to sad Sara McLanahan songs.

"What they consider their homes???" He groans and flops against her, he just needs to bury his face in some titties right now. "That's some bullshit if they think my home is in Jacob's fucking office. Why can't it just stuff me in a locker and be done with it?"

This sucks and he hates it.

"What did April get?"

Flan just rubs his back, and nestles him in her tits. It can't solve everything, but life is better when you're between a pair of good boobs. "Yeah, like, no matter how you stretch the definition of home, there's no way that place is more of a home than anywhere else you ever lived. Anyway, they just pick on you 'cause you're funny and your dick is good."

"Oh my god, okay so at first, I thought it was the place April and I used to live in, but then I actually walked in, and it's like one of those show-homes, except it all just feels like reeaaaallly familiar and also off-putting. And THEN, if you go into the bedroom? It's just a photo darkroom with a bed!" She's more than happy to tell Pratt about the weird shit going on with April.

"It almost sounds good when you say it like that." who knew being charismatic and knowing how to use his dick would come back to bite him.

"So a stepford house? Everything perfect but also a little to the left or whatever? The pictures came with the frame." He's been in a ton of unsettling houses and there's nothing creepier than going into someone's home and them having zero personal items and it looks like a hotel.

"Uh. Okay that's weird. Does April need to be developed in a vat daily?" It's a joke because he has no idea about the paper thing. Little does he know he's accidentally uncovered a cryptid secret.

"Almost! But it still sucks for you, even if it just makes you even more fuckable." And she gives one of his pecs a honk.

"Not anymore!" Flan says cheerily, enjoying his joke even if it's pretty close to the truth. "They're pretty private about that stuff, and like, you never want to ruin the mystery for a friend whose whole thing is mystery so I'm only a liiiiittle nosy about it instead of a lot. But they do totally have like, little scraps of photo paper on the floor near the bed, so I'm like ooohhh is that decoration or are you shedding? They totally won't tell me so I'm going to have to sit on it and wait for like, a good moment to tease 'em about it so they yell out the answer at me. Anyway, April's all weird all the time but that's just part of the territory when you're not human!"

He gives one last nuzzle into the titties before sitting back.

"So what you're saying is when Christmas rolls around I should get them a nest of Polaroids?" He's not even gonna question the not human thing because he only vaguely remembers what April looks like anyway, maybe they have three heads for all he knows. His memory is terrible and that's fine, definitely no other reason he can't place their face.

"What about you, assuming I survive this place without going on a murder rampage or getting murdered by the Stepford Townsfolk? Got a Christmas wish list?"

"Oh my god they'd looooooove that!" Flan beams, and also has a moment when she realizes that huh, right, time has passed, Christmas is coming up real soon. "Wow, Christmas! I haven't thought about it at all until just now! Oh god, great question."

She pats her hands on Pratt's thighs as she thinks about him. "Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm oh! Yeah okay, I got some ideas! I'd love some night out where you dress up, and eat a good dinner, and maybe see a show? Or a pjs-and-movie night with popcorn! I'd also totally be up for a picnic kinda thing! Honestly, just some sort of fun experience! Or like, a threesome if we'd be up for that? We both like Max! What about you? You got a list? Also, if you do go on a murder rampage, like let me know and I'll come join you okay?"

"Major downside if I go on the murder rampage I don't really talk. Or at least I don't think I do? I'm not really there, but I'm sure someone will tell you." Assuming he doesn't get obliterated in two seconds by someone who shoots fireballs because he has no idea powers are nerfed here since he doesn't have any.

"Picnic sounds cool, can you get us up on top of the ship? Like the very top where we're not supposed to be? Because we can chow down and then we can make paper ninja stars and chuck them at unsuspecting passengers below. They'll never see it coming."

"Man, it's totally unfair that you don't even get to be around for your own killing spree. In that case, I'll just stop him until you can come back around 'cause what's even the point if you can't be there for it?" Flan promises and means it. Plus honestly, it does make her a little nervous seeing everyone like, doing this whole resistance thing. It's their choice for sure, but like... she's seen how this stuff goes and it's way, way better to just keep your head down and be invisible to those kinds of guys.

She's soooooooo lucky her uncle taught her this stuff when she was a kid.

"Oh you totally know I absolutely can! Oh my god, I'm going to start folding ninja stars now, it'll be great! We should also take a bunch of water balloons up with us too!" This is a lot more fun to talk about and she throws herself into it wholeheartedly. "We'll be menaces! It'll be so good!"

"Awwww. That's so sweet." And he really means it, because someone stopping him from murder rampaging is the height of his love language.

"It's been a while since the ship had a couple of decent hooligans livening things up. Plus everyone is so dour all the time, including me. Gotta lighten it up you know? Or we all get in our heads and don't come back out til something terrible happens. Like this place."

"Yeah!! But like, I get it! A lot of you guys had normal lives at some point, before everything happened to you, and before the ship happened on top of all of that. I've thought about it a lot and I'm like, 99% sure that it's the normal lives that make people dour 'cause you've got something to miss!" She keeps idly drumming on his thighs as they chat, just keeping her hands busy while they're talking about this stuff. "Hopefully everyone has a fun time here and it's not like, the worst, or you know it's going to be doom city central when we hit the boat again!"

"Yeah I get everyone wanting to go home, and I want that for them too cuz I'm not an asshole. But if that happens and everyone goes back to where they were - I go back to being dead and that's not super fun for me." He sighs, guess pretending they're on a pleasure cruise and ignoring everything hasn't worked as well as he thought.

"I dunno. I got a bad feeling about this one - and not just because I'm back in cannibal torture-ville every night. Just.. in general. This place feels way more fake than even the stuff the Captain made up."

"Everyone else can go back, you're coming with meeeeeeeeee." She can't totally promise this but Flan is going to try her hardest anyway. If there's any chance of keeping him alive and away from the shitty situation he was in, she'll take it. "You gotta meet Elliot and Tomathan and eat at the timmys and like, we could totally get you a job there and you're already used to haunted artifacts and stuff so you'll fit right in! Or maybe they'll have UBI in by the time we get back and you can just collect checks and fish and stuff!"

Flan's cheer dies a little as Pratt says out loud the thing she's unfortunately been feeling since she fell out of the sky and right into the path of a rover. She sighs and flops on her back, nodding while looking at the ceiling of her place. "Yeah... it's like... it's like the kind of torture-hell-place my one uncle's friend would make. Like, I eat fear but I don't need you to know that's what I'm doing when I'm feeding off of you. I just do it. Places like this are like... they want you to know you're being eaten. They like that you know you're being eaten, and that you're afraid or mad or scared or desperate. And maybe, maybe you go along with things, you'll get lucky 'cause maybe someone will be louder and they'll get the negative attention instead of you."

But there's always that looming promise isn't there? The promise that it might not be enough, that you might do everything right and still their eyes will fall on you. Flan doesn't like that feeling, and she doubly doesn't like it now that she doesn't even have her uncle to stand near. "It's gonna suuuuuuuck."

"Oh hell yeah." The kind of words that should be shouted out, but he says it softly like he can't really believe it. He never thought he'd be so excited about having a job again - especially one with as much paperwork as April has indicated. "I'm really good at carrying around haunted artifacts, I could whip up a resume and everything."

A creepy horse doll and Daisy's cursed knife aren't exactly stunning references but they're more than most people have.

"It's the difference between doing something because you need to.. or even you want to and being sadistic about it. I used to love hunting, but I know people who would bowhunt deer, shoot 'em and trail after them for miles as they slowly bled out, another arrow, more blood, another arrow. They liked the thrill of being the dominant species I guess. I don't get it. But there's some nasty fucks out there."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Welcome To The Village

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