Welcome To The Village

[number_2]

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)

Comments

THE GREEN DOME

[number_2]

Try your luck?

[not_the_last]

In her explorations of the Village, finding things out, Cassandra fairly often circles around the Green Dome. She hasn't yet attempted to knock; she's less interested in going inside than, perhaps, encountering Number 2 on his way in or out as though by chance.

(Ideally when there are other people about, who might overhear -- but not so nearby as to be likely to join the conversation. It's a fine line to walk, but she's long used to walking fine lines.)

[number_2]

He just happens to be coming down the stairs as she's making another round. He lifts his hand to his brow and gives her a customary Village salute, "Why, hello there Number 12. Be seeing you."

[not_the_last]

She brightens theatrically, light practically glinting off her eyes. "Just the man I've been hoping to see. Have you a few moments to talk? I'll walk with you, if you're heading somewhere in particular."

[number_2]

"I do. Walk with me. I'm just on my way to the Citizen's Advice Bureau. I have an appointment." He will continue walking that way, expecting her to follow.

Re: THE GREEN DOME

[professionalriot]

After finding Valdis' cottage in pieces and no sign of her anywhere, he's back at the Green Dome. He'll sleep in front of the door if no one answers. There is no way he is going anywhere until he knows what happened and where she is. Standing at the door he knocks and knocks and knocks and won't stop knocking until he finds out what is going on. At least that is the plan.

[number_2]

After an hour of knocking, the door will finally swing open of its own accord. There's no one in the foyer to meet him but the doors leading into Number 2's inner sanctum stand open, inviting Ash in.

[professionalriot]

When the door finally swings open he pokes only his head in and looks around. Then slowly steps the rest of the way inside. He doesn't see anyone but spots other doors that are also open.

"Hello?" Ash calls out as he steps through the interior doors.

[number_2]

The ball chair is facing away, but it swivels around to reveal Number 2 perched inside.

"Ah, Number 54, to what do I owe this pleasure? Come in! Have a seat! Tea?"

[saltwaterlungs]

Darcy made the plan to cause as much damage to this place as humanly possible when they first arrived. Then after hearing that Peter got Got, their vague antagonism has turned pointed. Refined into walking the tightrope of extreme irritation without venturing far enough to get theirself killed.

All of this is to say that they're drawing a dick on the chess lawns in salt and seeing if anyone comes out of the green dome about it.

[number_2]

Wish granted. Number 2 has a frown of disapproval fixed firmly on his face as he descends the steps to come meet them.

"Number 69, just what do you think you are doing?"

[saltwaterlungs]

Looks at the bag of salt still in hand.

"Is this a trick question?"

[number_2]

"Let me rephrase." Number 2's scowl only grows. "Why are you defacing the chess field? I thought you liked chess?"

[yournewsidekick]

You know what? If her shifting's too screwed up to do a lot of damage, and Kevin's gonna subject them all to his terrible musical choices 24/7, then Nimona's gonna get her kicks by subjecting him to her music right back.

So there she is, in her stupid clothes, balancing on the railing beneath the Green Dome and hollering at the top of her lungs, "I REMEMBER WHEN WERE GAMBLIN' TO WIN, EVERYBODY ELSE SAID BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME -- "

(There was enthusiastic air guitar earlier. And an equally enthusiastic drum solo. Kevin really needs to get the full experience, not just the melody, y'know?)

[number_2]

Number 2 emerges not long after she begins this. He steps out with a smile, clapping his hands for her.

"Wonderful, Number 8. You have a lovely voice. May I ask? To what do I owe the honor of a personal serenade?"

[yournewsidekick]

"Oh hey Kevin!" chirps Nimona, as bright as if she were seeing a long-lost friend. She starts to walk along the railing, heel-to-toe, arms outstretched to keep her balance. "I mean, you were just so cool about sharing all your music with us that I wanted to share some back! 'Cause mine's way better and yours sucks!"

[number_2]

"I paid you a compliment and this is how you see fit to speak to me?" He is really playing up sounding offended, while also being completely deadpan.

"If you would like to help Number 0202 develop a new score for my Village, I suggest you go find him."

[thismaskismybadge]

There is a teenage girl climbing the side of the green dome. Not even the normal way, using footholds and handholds, just by sticking to the surface like a spider. It's not entirely obvious what she's trying to achieve by doing this, but she sure is up there anyway.

Apparently she really has given up on the concept of pretending she's not Spider-Woman.

[number_2]

The window up on the second floor suddenly opens and Number 2 himself sticks his head out the window to address her.

"Number 65, Just what do you think you are doing?"

[thismaskismybadge]

Gwen pauses, turning to face him in such a way that leaves her hanging from the wall by one hand and one foot.

"Is that a serious question? I mean, c'mon, isn't it kind of obvious?"

[number_2]

"You don't happen to have a gothic sibling, do you?" He really, really hates teenagers. Why didn't he put them all into a coma the moment they got here?

"Get down at once. This is my private abode."

Earlier in the month

[blindwatchersees]

Sheogorath doesn't like being told what to be. He doesn't like to be told what skin to wear, or what clothes to don. He certainly doesn't like to be told what to call himself, and is even less fond of being called a number. Really, he doesn't like any of this. It's too tailored, too orderly, too... too all the things that give him the ick.

So, covered in smears of dirt and and flowers, with his hair combed the wrong way, he makes his way to what looks like a very important building and, with whatever condiments he was able to find along the way, begins smearing images of raw chickens and half-hearted nonsense poetry on the walls. It's artless, it's not his best work, but all he can think to do right now is to rebel by doing the exact opposite of what he's supposed to be doing. Robbed of his ability to transform himself and others, being a pure contrarian is his primary instinct.

He wants this place to smell different. To feel different, when he squishes it between his fingers. He wants it to make a different sound when he strikes it with a mallet. Because right now, all he can feel is wrong, wrong, WRONG.

[number_2]

"Number 22 I'm terribly disappointed in you," Number 2 says as he descends the stairs, scowling at that terrible "art" the entire way. "Teens rebelling this way, I can understand. But you? I thought you were more mature than this."

[blindwatchersees]

"How DARE you try to reduce me to a number? How dare you try ANY of this? You were terribly mistaken, mortal, to expect anything of me. I am the DEFINITION of unexpected!" He flourishes dramatically, sending a spattering of whatever he was painting with flying in flecks and splotches.

[number_2]

"You are not reduced. You are reorganized." Number 2 answers calmly, ignoring the small splatters that dot the front of his coat. "Re-ordered, you might say. I know what you were. But here, you will learn to be harmonious. You are no more or less than any of us."