prelude {{ Log 01.

[imaginarymods]

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

Comments

[hxppythxughts]

[Even with the memory loss epidemic going on, it's just an immutable truth of the universe that Sayori will return to weird sources of food. So obviously she's back at the vending machine.

Or, she's making her way back to it. But there's another skeleton there! (She's not really surprised to see a second skeleton. More things not to examine too closely.) And she knows how to wait her turn, mostly!

So that's what she's doing when said skeleton addresses her.] Huh??

[Oh. Oh god, the face stuff returns.] I mean— that's my name and my face so I'm pretty sure it's me? But that can't be my vending machine, it's too mean!

[She's confident that she would never develop a mean vending machine. Not on purpose, anyway.]

[spaghettimonster]

What? It's being rude, with your name on it... Without your permission? And with a cool name like that...

[Sayori the Determined Bowmaiden, to go by that poster.]

It's dragging your good name through the mud! Hey, you stupid vending machine! Ask before you go using somebody else's face!

[Autonomous vending machines, who even had that idea.]

[hxppythxughts]

[The cat face on the flap of the compartment at the bottom is as charmingly menacing as ever, unchanging in its apathy. The vending machine cares naught for this scolding.

Sayori pouts at it a little.] Yeah, I dunno why it has so much stuff like that! I didn't even know I had a cool name to be rude with!

[Though she is holding a bow (for arrows.) And wearing a bow (on her hat.) So she figured out the relevance pretty quickly.

But still, she didn't authorize this line of merchandise!] I've been trying to collect the posters but they're all over the place...

[spaghettimonster]

Well, this poster's right here! Let's start with taking this one...

[As he reaches for the vending machine, it shifts like it's going to dart away again. He slows, the two of them frozen in a brief staredown. Then a glint reflects off its display and it pauses, as Papyrus pulls out a coin.]

That's right. Just hold still, and I'll give this to you...

[Papyrus reaches forward slowly, as if to a dog that'll bolt at the first wrong movement.]

[hxppythxughts]

[Sayori watches this stand-off with bated breath. For a moment, she considers formulating a crazy plan like snatching the poster down while the skeleton distracts the machine.

But she tries to consider this from the machine's point of view. She doesn't know why it was spitting weird ink juice at everyone, but if it was doing that then that was probably important...and it was probably frustrating that people weren't drinking it!

So instead of a super sneaky cool action plan, she steps forward and gently sets her hand on the side of the machine.] It's okay, you don't have to be mad! I'll buy something too if you let us have the poster!

[Is...is she talking to the vending machine? She is. In a soothing tone of voice, the way you would to a distressed child.]

[spaghettimonster]

[So she is... Papyrus glances over at her, surprised more by the tone of voice than the talking itself.

He doubts this vending machine can really be reasoned with, on account of his blossoming vendetta with it, and so has opted for scolding it like a misbehaving canine... but far be it from him to dissuade Sayori from trying the friendly communication approach.

Especially when he can pull on some of the hot shopping tips Monika gave him:]

Like a buy one get one sale!

[The vending machine wavers, standing its ground despite its uncertainty. Papyrus is offering a coin, rather than a complaint or a rock. Sayori does seem to be earnest, even if she hasn't pulled out a coin yet. And if they want the poster, well, that's just another opportunity for it to encourage the skeleton to drink his dang vial already!]

[hxppythxughts]

[Oh! What a good idea! Sayori lights up as Papyrus builds on her explanation. This skeleton is a genius.] Yeah, yeah, exactly like that!

[With her free hand, she rummages around in her pocket until she locates a coin. She shows it to their ornery mechanical friend in her palm as a show of good faith.] See? I've got money and everything!

[And so she gives the side of the machine a soothing pat, encouraged by the fact that it has not yet spit any more bottles in anger.]

[spaghettimonster]

[Sayori, the vending machine concludes, is a good girl. And so it sticks around for the pat, for Papyrus offering it a coin, even for their scheme to gently peel the poster off of it. It isn't as though the poster is one of the products for sale, anyway - and it quite literally has her name on it! If she wants it, she can have it.

Papyrus, for his part, is halfway through selecting an ice cream bar with one hand and tugging at the poster with the other when something drops on his foot.

Yet another vial.]

Oh my god. Really???

[The vending machine doesn't move, but the air vibrates with stubborn intensity. Sooner or later, the skeleton is going to drink the ichor, dagnabbit.]

[hxppythxughts]

[Friendship...success. Sayori's expression becomes pleased with this turn of events as Papyrus makes his purchase.

And then comes the ichor.]

Ohhhh. [A sound of comprehension. No wonder there's such animosity here!] Yeah, it really wants everyone to drink that stuff! I drank mine as soon as I got it. It'll leave you alone once you do!

[Hence her mostly peaceful relationship with the machine thus far, probably. She really did just drink a bottle of black mystery fluid with no questions asked, huh?]

[spaghettimonster]

I'm not falling for that kind of extortion! [It feels familiar in a way he can't pin down.] I smelled that stuff... and it smells terrible! No way I'm putting that anywhere near my tongue!

[Not that he... has a tongue. But something in those bones picks up on flavors and textures when he eats, presumably.]

It'll just have to sweeten the deal.

[With that, he finishes gently prying the poster off. But the poster's for Sayori, not himself, so it doesn't count as a bribe! Or as a literal sweetener, which would be more helpful in this moment.]

[hxppythxughts]

[T...tongue???

It's a good thing Papyrus is so much taller than her, because she can get away with glancing at the underside of his lower jaw to confirm the lack of...tongue...]

Wait!! [Skeletons with tongues are not the point!] Don't add anything sweet to it! It makes it so much worse!

[She says this with urgency. Did he mean literally sweeten? Maybe not, but it did remind her very suddenly of her horrible, horrible ichor-related decision of the day prior, so she has to warn him!!]

[spaghettimonster]

[Her urgency strikes him and Papyrus recoils like a cat, hopping back from the vial.]

Oh god?? Worse how???

[Is it like a baking soda volcano, because he does not want to risk adding sugar only for it to billow up and spill over his hands. Scrubbing that stuff out from between his bones sounds like an even worse time than dodging the occasionally flung vial.]

[hxppythxughts]

Like...

[God. How does she describe it?

She picks up the bottle of ichor and stares at it with serious scrutiny, trying to think of the best way to put it to words.] You know how when you're cold, warm places feel even warmer?

It was like that! I tried to use the ice cream to make it better because ice cream is good, but the ichor is so gross that adding something good just made it even grosser!

[This simile will fall flat if skeletons can't feel heat and cold, but she's trying her best.]

[spaghettimonster]

[Papyrus nods along with the idea, recognizing the concepts of cold and heat, and even the phenomenon she's describing.

Like he can taste without a tongue, he can feel temperature without a skin. But the lack of flesh means they're far less uncomfortable.]

So a good flavor... just adds to the contrast of how terrible it is?? Phew.

[Good thing he didn't try mixing like she did! She's really saving his skin, here.

Or. You know.]

What if... you follow the bad taste with a better one, to wash it out? Do you think it's too powerfully gross for that???

[hxppythxughts]

[Perhaps what she's doing is...throwing him a bone, heh.

Sayori blinks at him a few times, wide-eyed and blank. She processes this, and blankness turns to astonishment, her eyebrows in a high, surprised arch.] That's amazing! I can't believe I didn't think of that!

You're a genius!! [She's entirely earnest about this, and gestures a little with her hands in Emphasis.]

It's pretty gross, but I bet your idea would work!