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
She looks away for a moment, pretending to study the dips in the unfamiliar sand.] Yeah! Yeah, you're probably right! That's so smart!
[She's trying to distract herself from whatever the hell this conflicted mess of feelings in her is, but she's earnest about this statement. She really feels like this girl is super smart!] So— you don't know anything about this place either then, huh?
no subject
No I don't know anything. The only thing I woke up with is... my name.
[ Which that's all true of course even if she's hiding the teeny tiny details of almost having all of her memories back. Moreso that she knows who Sayori is.
There's another dilemma too. She worries giving her name might trigger something in Sayori. But... it'll be impossible to avoid that anyway. Maybe it's just best for her to give it now rather than it be an absolute upset late. ]
I'm... Monika by the way.
1/2, CW: graphic asphyxiation stuff
[Monika was right... I s̷h̵o̸u̶l̴d̶ ̸̢̝͓̔͆̊j̶̤̿͂̄u̵̺̹̾ŝ̵̨̡̟́̅̈́t̴̗̍—̸̗͔̊̔͝
Suddenly, for just an instant, she can't breathe. For just an instant, she feels something around her neck. The sounds of the ocean, the distant music of the Boardwalk, the wildlife in the rainforest, it's all muffled, like something's clogging her ears. Her vision goes blurry. Her throat hurts, hurts, it feels like it's tearing—
She lifts a hand to her neck— no, her head. Her palm rests against her forehead, suddenly clammy with the sheen of sweat the hot weather has given her.] ...Monika?
[What was that? What was that?
No, she can't— Whatever that was, she can't deal with it right now. She doesn't want it.]
2/2
CW: manipulationnnnn
It doesn't have to be. [ She realizes that doesn't make sense though, so she immediately follows it up. ] It doesn't have to be... nice to meet me. It might be better if we stay apart actually.
[ Because what the hell is she doing anyway? This is Sayori's chance to finally get away from her. What business does she have to try to get back into her life again? ]
ouchie!
[It's a cold, piercing feeling, like ice crystallizing in her chest. Her hand falls away from her face, held instead at her chest in a withdrawn posture. She looks at Monika again, uncomprehending.] But—
[Why? What did she do wrong? It must be because of whatever that feeling was. Sayori's reaction must have scared her off. Of course it did; why would this random girl want to deal with something like that?
A nervous laugh bubbles out of her.] I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I think the heat just made me feel funny, ahaha!
no subject
N-No you're fine. Sorry, I was the one being rude. I just... you remind me of someone I used to know. I hurt her feelings really badly once, so I was worried about doing it again. But I really don't want to do that again. I promise
[ She puts on her best smile. ]
I just remembered that when I saw you!
no subject
In a rare show of subtlety, Sayori doesn't say what she's thinking. It'll probably just make Monika more upset to hear.
After a moment of assessing the heavy weight in her chest:] It's okay. I believe you.
[A small smile.] It doesn't have to be like that this time, though! We can be friends if you want!
no subject
Um... well okay. It's better if we get along anyway. Just... just if you change your mind later, it's okay, you know? You aren't obligated.
[ Monika hates acting like this, but she leaves the door unlocked for Sayori. She can come and go whenever she pleases... ]
no subject
[If Sayori is someone's friend, it's because she wants to be. "Obligation" simply doesn't exist to her as a concept in friendship, at least not like that.
There's something sad here. She can tell that much. But that's all the more reason to try her best, isn't it? It seems like Monika could use a friend.]
no subject
Y-Yeah... right. Okay.
[ Sayori is still Sayori. It's a comforting yet heartbreaking fact. She feels fragile in a way Monika could break her with own her hands. All over again... ]
I never caught your name, by the way.
no subject
My name's Sayori. [She tilts her head, leaning in with some curiosity and a smile.] Monika is a pretty name! I meant to say it but I got distracted from that too, ehehe.
no subject
Ahaha you're too nice, Sayori. [ You really are. ] I'm the one who distracted you anyway. Don't worry about it, alright?
[ Monika stares ahead. Luckily the further they go along the less glitched it seems to be. ]
Where do you think we are anyway?
[ Not that she's expecting an answer. ]
no subject
A drawn out thoughtful noise follows Monika's question.] I dunno! It looks like it's an island!
[Amazing revelation.
However, she does continue with more useful insight:] I know we can't remember anything, but I don't think we planned to end up here, 'cause it's super hot and these clothes are way too warm.
[She would have worn a swimsuit if she'd known she was going to the beach!]
no subject
Right? It's way too hot.
[ Thinking about it even makes her wipe her forehead off. ]
I think it's better than being under prepared for the cold though.
u can decide if this is monika's cabana or just a random empty one LOL
Ah! You're right! [Said with some alarm at the idea.] We can take stuff off, but if we were stuck somewhere cold we'd just freeze if we didn't bring enough clothes! I don't want my toes to freeze off!
[She's just being a ham. As she does.
As they come up on the cabana, Sayori hops ahead and holds the curtain open for Monika.]