Imaginary Island Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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imaginarylogs2020-07-12 05:21 pm
imaginarymods) wrote in imaginarylogs2020-07-12 05:21 pm
Entry tags:
- ace attorney: phoenix wright,
- ddlc: monika,
- ddlc: natsuki,
- ddlc: sayori,
- digimon: erika mishima,
- final destination: alex browning,
- final destination: clear rivers,
- golden kamuy: hyakunosuke ogata,
- homestuck: terezi pyrope,
- idolm@ster: nana abe,
- jjba: guido mista,
- original: christine delacroix,
- original: mira delacroix,
- overwatch: jesse mccree,
- persona: shinjiro aragaki,
- power rangers: tommy oliver,
- prelude,
- red vs blue: agent washington,
- red vs blue: leonard church,
- steven universe: rose quartz,
- story log,
- the good place: michael,
- umineko: lion ushiromiya,
- umineko: willard h wright,
- undertale: papyrus,
- undertale: sans,
- wktd: venus
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 yourseaisland 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.
no subject
[ Monika stares at Natsuki with wide eyes. Then a sharp pain hits her head. She clutches it as if it'll help, but it's not that simple. So many memories come rushing back... some good but so many bad. The things she did, the things they went through, their time in the Bureau too-
After a moment, she blinks rapidly as the pain subsides. She stares at Natsuki, not sure what to say. ]
Natsuki...
1/2
And yet, it seems like it makes sense, the moment she questions it. Of course this girl knows her name. Because she knows hers.
fucking monikam̵̧̧̨̥͍̭̭̝̥̣͙̜̩̂́͜m̴̛͎͈͖̖͖̲̘͑̋̊̓̾͋͠͝m̶̡̨̢̹̹̭͔͓̜̟̣̔̔̿͂͛̽̆̀̅̈́̓̕͠m̵̛͉̙̠̳̟̅̂̌̐͌͂͊̎̚̕͠m̸̨͙̥͇̭̬͍̩͍̹̘̹͇̗̐͑̊̇̔́̆͛ͅm̷̳̙͈̝̂̿͌̀͛͛̕͘̚͝ṁ̸̨̨̘̠̟͖͓͍̗̩̘͍̦̐m̸̋̂ṃ̶̨̛̗͉̬͓͍͚̋̓͜͠ͅm̸̤̠̖͉̔̇̀͝m̶̢̹̩̬̦̬̱̦̾͜m̸̠̺͊͝m̵͆͋̕m̴̟̪̃̊͑̓̔̀͛̌̚͝ṃ̷̖͉̲̹̀̿̇̀̀̕͝͝m̷̧͈̗̦͇͉̥̳̙̖͈͂̿́̌̾̀̽̓̔̌͘ṁ̸̢̱̦̥̱̠̻͔͋̉͊̓͛͌͑̑̊̓̓̊̕m̵̳͔͎̣̞̺͍͉̤̤͕̭͚̬̅͜͝m̶̱̅̀̑̀͋̌̏̿̈̽͘ ]
no subject
She's your enemy.
She's still your friend.
But she tried to kill you.
But she said she was sorry.
But she's one of the f̴͍̠̮̞̯͙͍̜̝̀́̍͠e̵͉̭͓͙̾̍͠w̶̧̳̫͕͎͎͚̩͎̑̍̍̋̄͜͝͝ ̷̨̨͓̻̠̼̱̫̯̭͛̽͆̃̒͝p̵̺̺̖͖̟̿͆̊̊̉̑̇́͌̐̂̚͝e̷̼̠͔͋͆̍̀̽̄̋ǫ̴̨̘͚͉͎̭̣̞̥͔̯͍̙̃̄̈́p̵͖͓̻̼̅͑̋̚͜l̷͓̦̄̇̇͂̉́̄̏̕ẻ̸͓̉̈́̊͑ ̵̨̧̢̢̫̝͕̠͎̦̲̰̬̓̍y̴͇͎͙̙̅̅͋̐̆̿̂͋̀̚͝ơ̷̡͇̰͙̩̆̅̉̅̆̂̽̂͒̇͠u̴̢͙̥͇̺̗͖̳̬̦̞͎̼͖̅͑̓'̶̡̥̘̺̘̲̲͔̤͈̦̍̅͂̄̅̇͊͜v̷̧̢̢͖͙̮͖̖̹̳̳̜̦̇̓͊̋ȩ̴̼͙͊̒̀̏͑͘͜ ̸̝̼͇͈͓̳͓̀̒ģ̸͆̓̓̉̆̍̃̃͘͝ơ̷̢̛̲̟̤͖̟̲̥̳͋̍̆̚̕͜͜͝͠t̸̡̧̡̝̱̘̮̠͙͙̳̔ ̸̢̢̰͓̝͚͙̩̲͙͎̉l̵̡̧͔͙̥͕̲͔̬̳͉̲̓͐͌̓̓̐̒͒̃̐̅̓̑̚e̵̜̦̐̓́͌̅̽̋͂̐̓̚͝f̸̲̎̎͋̃̂͑̐͛̚͘͝͝͠t̷̨̢͔̯̤̻̹̠͔̙̩̮̝͖̜͛̒̐.̵̨̯̜̥̪͔͖̇͛̾̀̀͒̔̊̂̂̊̍̾̈́͝
Natsuki squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head violently, before taking a deep breath. She finally, unsteadily answers: ]
... Hey, Monika.
no subject
[ Monika gets to her feet and almost moves over to her, but she stops herself. That probably won't help anything. In fact, she just might upset Natsuki more. ]
So... you remember? How much exactly?
[ Because Sayori didn't seem to know much. ]
no subject
And in a way, she does. The whole day has been a rollercoaster of emotion and memory and confusion and hunger and, and, and ...
And that last blow really fucking hurt. ]
Enough.
[ She drags her hands down her face. ]
Well ... Let me put it this way. If you're asking that, then ... you probably remember what I remember.
no subject
Yes. I-I think I remember just about everything now. Both in the game and back at the Bureau.
[ Living ignorantly would've been easier, but she definitely doesn't deserve that luxury. She can't run away from her problems anymore. ]
I ran into Sayori earlier, but she doesn't seem to remember anything. And... I haven't seen Yuri.
no subject
[ Yuri. Yuri. That was the name of the missing piece in what she remembered about the game. Yuri ...
A flash of Yuri's face as they exchanged Candlenights presents crosses her mind, the feeling of warmth as they took a walk and held hands ...
Natsuki sits bolt upright. ]
Yuri!
[ If she'd seen her today, wouldn't she have remembered her sooner? She moves to get up, like she's about to go look for her now or something, but she sways a little bit --the combination of mental strain and a touch of overheating is not a good combination. ]
Ugh ... !
no subject
[ Her sudden reaction surprises Monika. Did she just remember Yuri? Oh no... does that mean she hurt her by accident? Why... is she always hurting her friends? ]
H-Hold on. [ Monika gets up to dig through her things and produces a waterskin, offering it to the pink hair girl. ] Have some water.
no subject
S-sorry. That was stupid to get up suddenly like that.
[ In fact, if Monika looks closely, she'll see that much of what skin Natsuki has uncovered is starting look a little pink, and kinda sweaty. If anything, she seems overheated, not emotionally suffering
yet. ]... Crap. I hope Yuri's okay ...
no subject
I think you should probably try to relax a little...
[ Easier said than done in a situation like this. But she tries to encourage Natsuki to sit with her, taking a seat herself. ]
I'm worried about Yuri too... but maybe she's okay! We can go look for her later if you want.
no subject
[ But she does plop back down with a heavy sigh. ]
... Y-yeah. I'm ... I just don't know what will happen ... without her memories.
no subject
[ She sighs, resting her face in her hands. ]
I'm worried about that with Sayori as well. She was acting like herself, but she had know idea who I was. Maybe that's better though...
no subject
[ Hmm ... though honestly, she's right. That might be for the best, all things considered ... ]
Not even a little bit?
no subject
I think there was some familiarity there. But definitely not who I am... or what I did. A-And it's not that I want to hide the truth from her. [ She had spilled the beans for this anyway. ] But it seems selfish to bring up when she's like this too.