The Crossing Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thecrossinglogs2025-02-05 04:26 pm
thecrossingmods) wrote in thecrossinglogs2025-02-05 04:26 pm
Entry tags:
- !tdm,
- akatsuki no yona: soo won,
- attack on titan: frieda reiss,
- chronicles of osreth: thara celehar,
- danganronpa: makoto naegi,
- danganronpa: nagito komaeda,
- heralds of valdemar: need,
- mass effect: allynbee shepard,
- omori: sunny,
- overlord: arche,
- pathologic: daniil dankovsky,
- toilet bound hanako-kun: hanako,
- toilet bound hanako-kun: nene yashiro
TEST DRIVE #2
TDM #2
Welcome to The Desert, wayward souls.
It's good to see you again.
The TDM is game canon and will be active FEB—APR. For further details about the setting, please reference our current setting page. All the information there is fair game for this TDM.
It's good to see you again.
The TDM is game canon and will be active FEB—APR. For further details about the setting, please reference our current setting page. All the information there is fair game for this TDM.
arrival
— BENEATH THE RIVER ( NEW CHARACTERS ONLY )
CW: claustrophobia, being buried alive
If your journey is starting here, you begin as all others have, and all others will: in The River.
You awake in the dark and the damp, with pressure all around you. In this case, however, it isn't water that surrounds you— but earth. Specifically, it is mud made from the sand of the desert and the standing water of the sparkling white salt flat that The River has become, and it behaves like quicksand. It has you here, and it doesn't want to let go.
You aren't in any direct danger; you may or may not notice that you don't need to breathe down here (or at all). But that may be difficult to appreciate in the moment: immediately on waking, you are seized by what was perhaps your last memory— or, at least, the somatic feeling of it. Panic, terror, pain; or (depending on the circumstances) maybe peace, or relief. It is the moment of your death as told by your body's visceral, emotional response, and it won't stop until you pull yourself out of the mud.
You are close to the surface. Even a bit of lucky thrashing might be enough for you to break through the sludge, and crack the shell of salt above. But The River will not release you easily; it will continue to suck you back down until you are able to fully pry yourself free— or someone else is able to lend you a hand.
— BEYOND THE RIVER ( EXISTING CHARACTERS ONLY )
If you arrived here from the Cavern, you'll find that the cave you came from opens up onto a rocky cliff face, not unlike the one you may have found yourself settled in before The Crossing. From here you can see the sprawl of the Desert ahead of you: the Oasis tucked against the base of the cliffs, the endless dunes, and the wide, white expanse of The River — though it hardly looks like one now.
There is no city to be found among these cliffs, though. They are steep and rocky, with dry, loose sand making finding and keeping traction difficult. There is a narrow, winding path to the Oasis below, but it will take time to hike, and the sun is already hot and oppressive above you.
Theoretically, there's a more direct route... if you're feeling bold. The cliffs are covered in jutting striations (as if, say, carved by a massive river, or maybe a River) that make halfway decent handholds and footholds for anyone hoping to climb their way down instead.
Just don't change your mind too much. If you turn back, you may find that the path behind has become impassable or now leads somewhere else entirely. You don't ever see it happening, but it's almost as if the cliffs are rearranging themselves whenever your back is turned.
shelter from the storm
— THE OASIS
The Oasis, as well as the rest of the surrounding Desert, is bustling with life. (Or do plants and animals have a Journey they need to complete, too?) It's a green, if not lush, patch surrounding a small lake of fresh water, partially shielded by the arms of the cliffs from the winds blowing across the dunes.
There are creatures besides you making their homes here: from small, skittering mammals to circling scavengers. If you look closely, though, you'll find it's a bit of a mishmash, as if an ecosystem appeared rather than developed... and, depending on where you're from, some of it might even be recognizable to you.
Those of you that came from the Cavern might appreciate the return of natural light, though you might be disappointed to discover that day and night don't always arrive at the cadences you might expect them to... In fact, they don't seem to follow any recognizable or even trackable pattern at all. Some noon suns stretch on forever; some sunsets speed run straight into dry, cold night.
If that were all the unpredictability the Desert had to offer, it might be tolerable enough... but the weather proves to be just as erratic. One day is clear and bright, with wide-open skies; the next brings dust clouds and lightning storms rolling in from the dunes. (And when today might be half as long as yesterday, those swings add up.)
Luckily for all of you, there have evidently been others here before you, just like in the Cavern. There is a collection of shelters lining the Oasis, no more than huts designed to keep everyone within as cool as possible. There's less space than there was in the Subterranean City, but that means some things are easier to find... The huts are decorated just like the city was before it, as if in layers with the odd familiar trinket from your home stashed in a drawer or under a mattress.
shifting sands
— THE DUNES
The Ferryman is holding vigil at The River, as they always are. They have positioned themselves (and their Lantern) so that their Light casts over the Oasis— but that aura can only cast so far.
The Lantern's Light might not be quite so obvious here as it was down in the Cavern, drowned out as it is by the desert sun, but you can still feel when you approach the edge of its protection, the way the sense of comfort and safety wanes. Beyond it are the rolling dunes of the Desert, where wraiths gather in great numbers.
Those who have been paying close attention will recognize that these are not the same wraiths you encountered in the Cavern. Or, at least, none of the wraiths you encountered in the Cavern are represented here.
These wraiths are not the violent, wailing beasts encountered by some during The Crossing. They are just the same as the wraiths originally found in the Cavern: silent, insubstantial, and always watching. The ones who have found the Oasis prowl the edge of the boundary; the others wander the dunes as if lost. Or, perhaps, searching.
If you, yourself, wander the dunes, you'll find them at best difficult to navigate— or, at worst, impossible. You may be swallowed by a sand storm, or lose sight of your landmarks when descending into a valley between the dunes. You might find yourself somewhere you never expected to be... Or, you might just need to send a message out to the others for help finding your way home.
If your journey is starting here, you begin as all others have, and all others will: in The River.
You awake in the dark and the damp, with pressure all around you. In this case, however, it isn't water that surrounds you— but earth. Specifically, it is mud made from the sand of the desert and the standing water of the sparkling white salt flat that The River has become, and it behaves like quicksand. It has you here, and it doesn't want to let go.
You aren't in any direct danger; you may or may not notice that you don't need to breathe down here (or at all). But that may be difficult to appreciate in the moment: immediately on waking, you are seized by what was perhaps your last memory— or, at least, the somatic feeling of it. Panic, terror, pain; or (depending on the circumstances) maybe peace, or relief. It is the moment of your death as told by your body's visceral, emotional response, and it won't stop until you pull yourself out of the mud.
You are close to the surface. Even a bit of lucky thrashing might be enough for you to break through the sludge, and crack the shell of salt above. But The River will not release you easily; it will continue to suck you back down until you are able to fully pry yourself free— or someone else is able to lend you a hand.
— BEYOND THE RIVER ( EXISTING CHARACTERS ONLY )
If you arrived here from the Cavern, you'll find that the cave you came from opens up onto a rocky cliff face, not unlike the one you may have found yourself settled in before The Crossing. From here you can see the sprawl of the Desert ahead of you: the Oasis tucked against the base of the cliffs, the endless dunes, and the wide, white expanse of The River — though it hardly looks like one now.
There is no city to be found among these cliffs, though. They are steep and rocky, with dry, loose sand making finding and keeping traction difficult. There is a narrow, winding path to the Oasis below, but it will take time to hike, and the sun is already hot and oppressive above you.
Theoretically, there's a more direct route... if you're feeling bold. The cliffs are covered in jutting striations (as if, say, carved by a massive river, or maybe a River) that make halfway decent handholds and footholds for anyone hoping to climb their way down instead.
Just don't change your mind too much. If you turn back, you may find that the path behind has become impassable or now leads somewhere else entirely. You don't ever see it happening, but it's almost as if the cliffs are rearranging themselves whenever your back is turned.
shelter from the storm
The Oasis, as well as the rest of the surrounding Desert, is bustling with life. (Or do plants and animals have a Journey they need to complete, too?) It's a green, if not lush, patch surrounding a small lake of fresh water, partially shielded by the arms of the cliffs from the winds blowing across the dunes.
There are creatures besides you making their homes here: from small, skittering mammals to circling scavengers. If you look closely, though, you'll find it's a bit of a mishmash, as if an ecosystem appeared rather than developed... and, depending on where you're from, some of it might even be recognizable to you.
Those of you that came from the Cavern might appreciate the return of natural light, though you might be disappointed to discover that day and night don't always arrive at the cadences you might expect them to... In fact, they don't seem to follow any recognizable or even trackable pattern at all. Some noon suns stretch on forever; some sunsets speed run straight into dry, cold night.
If that were all the unpredictability the Desert had to offer, it might be tolerable enough... but the weather proves to be just as erratic. One day is clear and bright, with wide-open skies; the next brings dust clouds and lightning storms rolling in from the dunes. (And when today might be half as long as yesterday, those swings add up.)
Luckily for all of you, there have evidently been others here before you, just like in the Cavern. There is a collection of shelters lining the Oasis, no more than huts designed to keep everyone within as cool as possible. There's less space than there was in the Subterranean City, but that means some things are easier to find... The huts are decorated just like the city was before it, as if in layers with the odd familiar trinket from your home stashed in a drawer or under a mattress.
shifting sands
The Ferryman is holding vigil at The River, as they always are. They have positioned themselves (and their Lantern) so that their Light casts over the Oasis— but that aura can only cast so far.
The Lantern's Light might not be quite so obvious here as it was down in the Cavern, drowned out as it is by the desert sun, but you can still feel when you approach the edge of its protection, the way the sense of comfort and safety wanes. Beyond it are the rolling dunes of the Desert, where wraiths gather in great numbers.
Those who have been paying close attention will recognize that these are not the same wraiths you encountered in the Cavern. Or, at least, none of the wraiths you encountered in the Cavern are represented here.
These wraiths are not the violent, wailing beasts encountered by some during The Crossing. They are just the same as the wraiths originally found in the Cavern: silent, insubstantial, and always watching. The ones who have found the Oasis prowl the edge of the boundary; the others wander the dunes as if lost. Or, perhaps, searching.
If you, yourself, wander the dunes, you'll find them at best difficult to navigate— or, at worst, impossible. You may be swallowed by a sand storm, or lose sight of your landmarks when descending into a valley between the dunes. You might find yourself somewhere you never expected to be... Or, you might just need to send a message out to the others for help finding your way home.
no subject
He holds both of his hands at each side of his head, demonstrating the size of it in comparison to Papyrus'.
"It just doesn't seem like something my mind would come up with. There's nothing wrong with it, however, I hardly meant it as a slight."
He's already insulted his own hallucination. Great. Dankovsky, you're not only bad at talking to people, you're bad at talking to the creatures your brain comes up with. You're hopeless, aren't you...?
no subject
Maybe a question for later, if they all get to exchanging life stories. For now, he can just hope that them saying it a few times will help the idea sink in past notions of hallucinations, and raise his own hands in a reassuring gesture.
"I mean, no insult given! None taken. I've weathered worse comments in my time! No water off my nose." He might be mixing metaphors here, with no skin and no nose, and no water of hurt tears to drip off either. "Besides, it's true... I've seen a few properly dead human skeletons. They're just not shaped the same as me..."
no subject
"Exactly, see my lad, I knew you'd understand." Dankovsky gives a small smile, "Of course you've seen a human skeleton, seeing as you've seen my life's work and all... what shall I call you?" He asks, "Calling you my hallucination all day simply won't do."
no subject
Instead, his smile goes crooked and uncomfortable, jaw shifting with it as he rubs at the side of his face.
"W-Well... You see... I guess this doesn't help with the explaining part," he says mostly to himself, though it only drops in volume from unnecessarily loud to still loud enough to be audible.
"I... I don't remember. Seems my name got misplaced somewhere in the muck and mud of the River, or maybe somewhere before...? But I'm open to suggestions!" The skeleton reconsiders, and clarifies, "better suggestions than 'Hallucination'. Or 'Skeleton', or other bone jokes... They're just so over-done."
no subject
Nevertheless, Dankovsky's soft smile is replaced by a frown. He can't just not have a name. That wouldn't do at all. That Ferryman seemed to be so careless, so untrustworthy. How was the group to trust them with their collective memories if they could not keep track of a single name?
He thinks. If he fashions himself as solving the mystery of this place, a Sherlock of this cursed desert, then every Sherlock would need it's Watson, wouldn't it?
"How would you feel about Watson in the meanwhile?" Dankovsky suggests. "It could be a temporary name until that Ferryman finds your proper name. As long as you fancy it, at least."
Yes, even when he's being nice, he's still being a little bit egotistical...
I've been dithering over whether he knows the reference, erring on 'yes, but not well'
For the moment, he's not privy to the man's backstory or train of thought, and is left watching the contemplation with curiosity. When it actually results in a possibility, he beams.
"'Watson', huh?" he muses aloud, scratching at his chin and trying to remember what he knows of the name. Doctor, which is funny with the alliterative doctor suggesting it, connected to a detective in some written works - the narrator, he believes. "As in... a partner in a certain investigative duo?"
One of the others had suggested that he could look to stories for notions of names, come to think of it. He hadn't immediately gone scouring his memory for ideas to pull from, still busy with getting oriented to everything, but had agreed it seemed a sound notion - surely he could make any such name drawn from fiction his own in time, and in the meantime?
"I've never considered biographer as a past-time... But there is a certain appeal to celebrating someone's accomplishments in so organized and published a manner! If, uh, I can find paper for publishing."
shakes your hand
He's not going to quite admit that he fancies himself the Sherlock of the aforementioned duo, but, well, he certainly does. It makes perfect sense in his own mind for a hallucination of himself, a reflection of his own mind, to have a name to counterpart his own in a strange way. A mirror image.
Watson knows the reference. But of course he does! He's him, after all. Dankovsky beams.
"There is plenty to document here if you have an interest in it." The Bachelor admits, "Just the abnormality of our situation and what happens to us has been enough to document in my opinion."
He's started keeping a notebook for sure, full of notes and sketches about things he's seen in this strange desert. And he's sure to keep up the journaling in the next place they go to, and so on, and so forth. More people to document things means more information-
Though can a hallucination of his own mind really document information? Write in a notebook? Suddenly the thought troubles him a bit.
my computer very rudely lost my initial draft by shutting off overnight, but! we proceed
"That's true enough! It's a strange situation... Dying, lingering, with some incomplete memories... Oh, hey!"
The matter of nicknames and documentation remind him, and send him scrabbling in his scarf to retrieve, a slightly rumpled piece of folded paper. Whether or not he can update it remains to be seen, but it does at least have some writing already present when he unfolds it.
"I don't think think I want to multipurpose this page for all that... But maybe the Ferryman has more notebooks around. And I should add Watson to the list."