imaginarylogs | prelude {{ Log 01.

prelude {{ Log 01.

Island Prelude ; Log 01

Life's a beach—

You wake up on the beach.

Okay, scratch that: you wake up on a beach. Some beach, somewhere. You don't know where it is, much less why you're there. You can feel the warm sun and a light breeze on your skin, along with the insidious prickle of sand worming its way into your fantasy Nikes. You have no memory of being here — but then again, you might not have any memory of being anywhere else.

At least you're not alone. There are other people scattered along this beach, toes trailing in the surf as they brush sand out of their shirts or shake seaweed from their weapons. Each and every one of them has an unremovable bracer locked around their wrist. Maybe you should get up. Lend a helping hand, or ask for one. Maybe somebody else knows more about the situation than you do. Maybe somebody else knows where that music is coming from. Is there a beach party going on?

—& then you d̵̡̪̻̿̽͒i̸̟͓͍͌̾͐ë̸͖͇̪́̔͊.

There's only so far you get before noticing that something's wrong, though. Even if you've got no memories but your name, something in you knows that trees aren't supposed to look like that. They're not supposed to be so . . . low-res. Right?

But these trees, not to put too fine a point on it, kind of suck. Some of them, anyway. Every few trees has one patch that flickers in and out of existence like an old neon sign. Every couple rocks seems to have spasmed and frozen up in one large pixel blob. If you touch these glitched spaces, nothing happens to you, but it certainly doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel like you're touching anything at all.

Looking back to the space you woke up, you might notice a pattern. The section of beach strewn with newly-conscious amnesiacs is exceptionally glitchy. There are a couple small patches of sky that seem to just be missing. And out at sea? There's way more of them out there.

If you're a strong swimmer, you might try swimming out toward the horizon. There's only so far you can go, though. After about half a mile, you hit some kind of resistance and blip back onto the beach. Watch the sea long enough, and you might see some boats making the same mistake — although they just end up closer to shore rather than beached, fortunately for them. Boats are expensive, and the barrier, whatever it is, seems to be doing its best not to damage them.

(Jaws Theme)

Walking up the beach towards the source of the music, you start to feel a little bit watched. Turn, and there's no one there. Just a quaint thatch-roofed vending machine with a strange cat face on the plate. Innocuous, though, and certainly nothing to worry about. So you keep going.

Except then you feel it again. And if you manage to pause in time, you'll hear this shuffling sound, like wood dragging through sand. Turn again, and the vending machine is right behind you. Like, right behind you. There's no way it moved fast enough to close that distance, and yet.

There are some options here. You can run — but it'll catch up. You can try to fight it — but you'll just hurt your hand (or other appendage). You can try to reason with it — but it's unrelenting. What it wants, as you'll soon discover, is to yeet a small bottle of dark, thick liquid at your face. It's also very insistent that you drink it. If you don't, it'll just fling another one at you, and keep flinging them, until you're crushed to death by vials or drink one, whichever comes first.

Everyone gets this treatment. The vending machine is never in two places at once, but its ubiquity might make it seems as though it is. When one inevitably breaks down and drinks the Kool-aid, it tastes just awful, but at least it's over and done with now. Surely this will never come up again.

This sparks joy

If you follow the music for long enough, you'll find yourself in easily one of the busiest places on the Island. The marketplace that spreads out before you is known as the Boardwalk, a fact that's easy to discover from any of the friendly locals. For most of you, these will be the first people you've encountered who didn't wash up on the beach alongside you. They're very fuzzy faces, too. The Animalians, a menagerie of anthropomorphic animals, almost all speak Common and seem pretty unfazed by the cluster of bewildered strangers. After all, new faces mean new customers!

There are a truly ridiculous number of things for sale on the Boardwalk. The predominant one is food, of course, and the smells hanging over the canvas tents and open-air stalls are positively mouth-watering. There are a wide variety of foods represented here. Maybe one or two of them will strike you as familiar, or trigger a memory? Pretty much all of them are delicious, though, so there's nothing to lose by digging in. Other goods include clothing, weaponry, art, and jewelry in a variety of styles. If you're lucky, you might find a tent that sells beautiful locally-made instruments — a Bard's dream!

Lack of coinage won't be too much of a handicap here. Barter is welcome, and should you not have enough to barter with, most sellers are happy to trade goods for services. It's highly likely that a newcomer or two will be found up to their elbows in dishes by the end of the night, or doing similar odd jobs for vendors.

Still, no one gets through an excursion to the Boardwalk without being swept into at least one dance. It comes out of nowhere: an Animalian's paw or claw on your elbow, a gentle nudge at the small of your back, and you're swept toward the gazebo, the source of the music that's been swelling all day and into the evening. It's joyous and captivating, the Animalians' love of dance infectious. Even buzzkills might be tempted to softshoe just a little.

What's this? What's this?

The Island seems to be sprouting miscellanea. Extremely distinctive weaponry stuck up a tree, books half-buried in sand or earth, clothing neatly folded or possibly being worn by an animal, or Animalian . . . At some point, it just becomes chaos. There's a great deal to recover, or to steal if that's more your bag. On the other hand, you might choose to be helpful and match belongings with their owners. You never know: a found item might help someone find the memory that goes along with it.

Just west of the Boardwalk, there's something else that might be familiar. At the center of a saltwater lake, easy to get to by rowboat, is a miniature island and swim-up bar. Each place is adorned by a menu listing strange and deja vu-inducing items, from nanchos to decaf espresso paradox. Some are helpful. Some are harmful. Some are just weird? He'll make you anything on the menu, but nothing more. Strangely, should you be overcome by the urge to ask the chef for something special and unique, he will gravely extend one of his tentacles and place a single, smooth, heart-shaped stone in your palm. The squid does not speak Common, but you understand an IOU when you're delicately, slimily handed one.

There's so much to explore here that, by the end of the day when you stumble back to the cabanas and attempt to sort out where you're going to collapse for the night, you haven't covered more than a sliver of it. There's tomorrow and the days after for looking around more, for stumbling across more of your belongings (or other people's), for discovering ruins and murals and memories. No matter how much time you take to fuss over sleeping arrangements, everyone ends up more or less in the same place: an open-air cabana, with the breeze blowing over them through the night and into the morning.

Everyone dreams — peacefully — of the moon.

OOC

Welcome, everyone, to the first Island log, our Prelude! While we will not be taking RNG requests during this log, we encourage you to stretch out, explore the space, and get your ~~sea~~ island legs. For questions pertaining to this log, go here. For general questions, head to the FAQ. For more places to explore in this first log, check out the Setting and NPC pages.

NAVIGATION ⯈

code bases by tricklet

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Telescopes, star charts...these are human things too, but yes. He knows what those are.]

That might be fun. You could see them closer - and maybe navigate? That's a thing, isn't it?

Yeah. I think so. [That does sound right.] Never done the navigation thing before, but maybe we could figure out where this island is.

[gasp]

We could build a boat!

[Build? That sounds like work.] Let's just buy one instead.

Edited (who invented html anyway it's dumb) 2020-07-16 03:01 (UTC)

[okay but he doesn't actually have any money and he doesn't know how to steal a boat]

I think I could build a boat. I could make it look nice, be all...big and stuff. [what is desirable in a boat]

Well, if you want to build it, knock yourself out. [Sans is not going to build a boat.] You know a stuff-boats-are-made-of supplier?

I don't know. Can't you just -

[Make one? Michael reaches out and snaps his fingers, and boom! A boat materializes on the beach!

Granted, it's illusory, but it sure looks real from here.]

[Sans just stares at it. It follows naturally that this was made with magic, so he doesn't have to ask how Michael did that, but Sans didn't expect a boat to just show up.]

Well. That was faster'n I thought it'd get done.

Honestly, same.

[He did it, sure, and he even had it in his head that it should be easy for him, but that was all just the vague impressions of an amnesiac. Actually magicking up a boat is still pretty surprising!]

Not that it helps much, if we don't know where to go.

We should probably find someone who can drive that thing, too. [Beat.] Unless you can do that.

[The guy did just magic up a boat.]

I don't...know.

[Can he drive a boat? Michael doesn't feel any particular innate feelings about that one way or the other.

He stands up and walks over, intending to climb up and stand behind the wheel. Maybe that'll spark some memories. But when he goes to grab the railing and put a foot on the deck, his leg goes through the thing entirely, causing him to stumble and flail his arms. He manages to catch his footing again without falling, but he stands there and stares at the boat, dumbfounded.]

It's fake!

[Sans follows Michael, watching as he steps through the boat. Cautiously, Sans reaches out his hand and watches as it slips right through, too.]

Illusion magic. [He's not sure why he's so sure of that, but it has to be just the same.]

Well, what's the point of that?

[Okay, Michael can see several potential points, but just in this moment he's a bit miffed that he couldn't make a real boat!]

It'd be great for pranks. [Sans would wonder why that was the first thing he thought of except of course it'd be great for pranks.] Guess you're gonna have to build a boat the old-fashioned way, though.

Ugh.

[Honestly, Michael doesn't completely hate the idea. He might actually like making something! But the illusion boat is a disappointment, and the thought of having to haul all that wood...

He kicks at the illusion boat and, when nothing happens, makes a couple of planks fall off with magic instead.]

I bet I could use it to get a boat. [he's talking about crimes again]

[Sans snorts when the planks fall to the ground.] You gonna trade this one in? Pretty sure most people're gonna want to try and get on a boat before they buy it.

Oh, no, I'd just replace theirs with a fake and haul it off before they noticed.

[He's blase enough when discussing this; why would it upset anyone else? Taking things from these animal people is just the most obvious thing to do. They've got stuff, and it's very easy to take!]

Probably want to figure out what to do with it first, though.

Pretty sure that's bad karma, buddy. [Sans has the idea that just stealing a boat is not a great thing to do, but also he's not gonna start a fight over this theoretical.] Better not start racking that up until you're sure you can drive a boat.

Yeeeeeah, it'd be a pain to hide.

[It's not a totally bad plan, though. Just something to shelf for now.]

Karma's some...fake human thing, isn't it?

Nah. Just means that bad stuff'll happen to you if you do bad stuff. It's not fake human magic, it's that you're gonna piss people off doin' that. [No magic or fake human stuff required!]

...rrrrright.

[Michael sounds doubtful. Does...does he care about pissing people off? You have to consider that stealing is both fun and profitable!]

But they wouldn't know I did it.

You sure about that? 'Cause you didn't even know you could make a pretend boat until a few minutes ago. [Subtlety usually requires being aware of that sort of thing.]

Sure, those people are easy to steal from. And I can teleport, too!

[He knows about that!]

[Sans is now behind Michael.] You think you're the only one who can do that?

Oh!

[Michael laughs, turning around. He does not see how this is related to his theft plans at all! Why would this guy care about some other people?]

That's fun! Can you do the illusions, too?

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