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❅ SHITTY LITTLE TOWN ❅ PART 1
Each year in this town, the winters seem to get harder and the summers seem to get hotter, and this was no exception. After several months of sweltering afternoons and sweaty nights, fall is finally starting to break the town’s fever, although with the cooler weather comes the death of the horseflies, leaving many of the town’s flat surfaces coated in bug carcasses. The sky is overcast, the air remains humid, and in the distance thunderstorms can be heard almost every hour of the day.
During the day, people go about their usual routines, working primarily at the slaughterhouse or mines during the weekdays, vegetating in front of the television on Saturdays, and sitting straightbacked and paranoid in the pews on Sunday, fearful less of the wrath of God than the ire of the neighbors. Evenings for the average person are filled with drinking at Nog’s or Auntie’s or peering at the TV until bedtime.
This is where our heroes find themselves, waking with a new lifestory that integrates them into this, the shitty little town.
PROMPTS
a) NOG'S
Nog's bar is the preferred haunt of most of the miners and slaughterhouse workers in this town, who meet to drink their woes away, complain about their supervisors and speculate on the personal lives of the people around them. Despite Mr. Goluboy's constant harassment, Nog has managed to keep his liquor license, and as such is one of the few successful businesses in town on account of all the stress-induced alcoholism. While one won't find fancy cocktails here, if they're just looking for a beer and some scuttlebutt, this is the place.
Nog's bar is the preferred haunt of most of the miners and slaughterhouse workers in this town, who meet to drink their woes away, complain about their supervisors and speculate on the personal lives of the people around them. Despite Mr. Goluboy's constant harassment, Nog has managed to keep his liquor license, and as such is one of the few successful businesses in town on account of all the stress-induced alcoholism. While one won't find fancy cocktails here, if they're just looking for a beer and some scuttlebutt, this is the place.
b) AUNTIE'S
"Auntie's" is the name of the old-school, 1950's-esque, 24-hour diner in the middle of downtown, with big red pleather booths, checkerboard floors and a jukebox. Typically, the only difference in clientele between Auntie’s and Nog's is that the people at Auntie’s wanted a burger or a stack of pancakes alongside their beer – but unlike Nog's, Auntie’s is only barely hanging on, constantly getting ticketed for waterspots on the silverware and not having enough napkins. Thankfully, one can get a full breakfast meal at Auntie's any time of day for a few dollars.
"Auntie's" is the name of the old-school, 1950's-esque, 24-hour diner in the middle of downtown, with big red pleather booths, checkerboard floors and a jukebox. Typically, the only difference in clientele between Auntie’s and Nog's is that the people at Auntie’s wanted a burger or a stack of pancakes alongside their beer – but unlike Nog's, Auntie’s is only barely hanging on, constantly getting ticketed for waterspots on the silverware and not having enough napkins. Thankfully, one can get a full breakfast meal at Auntie's any time of day for a few dollars.
c) THE DOCKS
The town is alongside a lake, and once upon a time there was enough fish to sustain a modest fishing economy and a river that allowed for trade by boat with other nearby towns. However, with the mines' pollution, fish are no longer considered safe to eat, and only the water immediately adjacent to the springhead on the Warren Family Farm is safe to swim in. Draining from the mines has lowered the level of the river enough that it's no longer navigable. Residents will still occasionally use the lake for boating recreation, but fees at the marina keep going up (into Goluboy's pocket) and mothers are increasingly worried about letting their children get wet in that water.
The town is alongside a lake, and once upon a time there was enough fish to sustain a modest fishing economy and a river that allowed for trade by boat with other nearby towns. However, with the mines' pollution, fish are no longer considered safe to eat, and only the water immediately adjacent to the springhead on the Warren Family Farm is safe to swim in. Draining from the mines has lowered the level of the river enough that it's no longer navigable. Residents will still occasionally use the lake for boating recreation, but fees at the marina keep going up (into Goluboy's pocket) and mothers are increasingly worried about letting their children get wet in that water.
d) THE SLAUGHTERHOUSE
The other major employer, owned by Ms. Cygne. Most of the locals who don't work at the mines work at the slaughterhouse, where the work is disgusting, dreary and grueling. Sometimes people get promoted out of the trenches and into admin. Yay.
The other major employer, owned by Ms. Cygne. Most of the locals who don't work at the mines work at the slaughterhouse, where the work is disgusting, dreary and grueling. Sometimes people get promoted out of the trenches and into admin. Yay.
e) BIG TOP CIRCUS COFFEE
Dick's Coffeeshop is in the bottom floor of an apartment building, and many locals have no idea how it hasn't been shut down yet, given that the owner is famously generous with his resources in a way that clearly irritates the city council. Dick offers jobs to those who Goluboy and Cygne won't hire at the mines or slaughterhouse and frequently sneaks day-old pastries to the hungry. The coffeeshop is one of the few areas where artists tend to converge, usually at the weekly open mic night; however, whatever one expresses at the coffeeshop is likely to be picked up by the town gossips, mocked relentlessly, distorted and spread around.
Dick's Coffeeshop is in the bottom floor of an apartment building, and many locals have no idea how it hasn't been shut down yet, given that the owner is famously generous with his resources in a way that clearly irritates the city council. Dick offers jobs to those who Goluboy and Cygne won't hire at the mines or slaughterhouse and frequently sneaks day-old pastries to the hungry. The coffeeshop is one of the few areas where artists tend to converge, usually at the weekly open mic night; however, whatever one expresses at the coffeeshop is likely to be picked up by the town gossips, mocked relentlessly, distorted and spread around.
f) THE FARMER'S MARKET
Because Mr. Goluboy's malicious prosecution of small businesses has essentially shut down any legal avenue for a farmer's market, a few of the residents of the town have established a black market for homegrown fruits and vegetables, small-batch soaps and candles, and other small products. Words gets out through a whisper network, and a few times a month everyone in the know meets in a parking lot, opens their trunk, and does some bartering and selling with each other until they get found out. Sheriff Mallard and her deputies have arrested many people at these pop-ups and confiscated their products. By now, these pop-ups have around forty people trading and selling at a time, and the city council has announced that out of concerns for food safety the sentence for being caught vending homegrown produce will be increased to a misdemeanor with jail time.
Because Mr. Goluboy's malicious prosecution of small businesses has essentially shut down any legal avenue for a farmer's market, a few of the residents of the town have established a black market for homegrown fruits and vegetables, small-batch soaps and candles, and other small products. Words gets out through a whisper network, and a few times a month everyone in the know meets in a parking lot, opens their trunk, and does some bartering and selling with each other until they get found out. Sheriff Mallard and her deputies have arrested many people at these pop-ups and confiscated their products. By now, these pop-ups have around forty people trading and selling at a time, and the city council has announced that out of concerns for food safety the sentence for being caught vending homegrown produce will be increased to a misdemeanor with jail time.
g) THE LIBRARY
The library, once well-stocked and indulgently funded, is now kept alive sheerly by the passion of the one paid librarian, Aziraphale, and the volunteers who work there. There is no interlibrary loan program and there have been no new books in years. The library is reduced to loaning damaged copies missing pages, and story hours or public events are difficult to organize due to the complete lack of resources. The city council has also forced Aziraphale to put up a sign against loitering or using the library "for any purposes besides the borrowing of books." An organization of local busybodies drops in frequently to comb through the stacks for "objectionable material," which is then destroyed at Ms. Cygne's behest.
The library, once well-stocked and indulgently funded, is now kept alive sheerly by the passion of the one paid librarian, Aziraphale, and the volunteers who work there. There is no interlibrary loan program and there have been no new books in years. The library is reduced to loaning damaged copies missing pages, and story hours or public events are difficult to organize due to the complete lack of resources. The city council has also forced Aziraphale to put up a sign against loitering or using the library "for any purposes besides the borrowing of books." An organization of local busybodies drops in frequently to comb through the stacks for "objectionable material," which is then destroyed at Ms. Cygne's behest.
h) WILDCARD/NEW LOCATION
Feel free to set things around town anywhere you want or make up new locations.
Feel free to set things around town anywhere you want or make up new locations.
i) THE SPOOKY WOODS
Outside the town, there are foggy, dense woods, difficult to navigate by foot due to thickets and brambles that come up to a grown man's waist. The city council has done what they can to ban people from going into the woods, and the gruesome animal maulings are a compelling disincentive.
Note: Let the plot mods know when your characters are going into the spooky woods.
Outside the town, there are foggy, dense woods, difficult to navigate by foot due to thickets and brambles that come up to a grown man's waist. The city council has done what they can to ban people from going into the woods, and the gruesome animal maulings are a compelling disincentive.
Note: Let the plot mods know when your characters are going into the spooky woods.
❅ OOC Plotting: Here. More locations can be found there. You can also ask the players running the plot questions there.
❅ Event Length: This part of the plot is to establish CR and characters' roles in town. It will last about a week and half before future parts that allow the characters to start digging into the mysteries of the town.
❅ New Characters: If your character is introing at this time, assume they arrived just in time at the location the plot takes place in to be caught up in the magic drawing everyone in. They would have gotten the Man in the Moon's spiel from the welcome page right before being magically sucked in.
❅ Opt-out: Anyone that doesn't want to play in the plot can handwave their character didn't go on the mission that put the characters in the location where they were sucked in. You can thread your characters back at the Pole or send them on another smaller mission with other characters.
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"What sort of art do he do?" Dan catches the way Miguel switches between present and past tense for his brother, and he wonders what the story is there. He wonders if he's going to put Miguel off by asking, so he decides to tread lightly.
He finishes off the water and tucks the empty bottle into his jacket. He can probably find use for it at some point, maybe just to pilfer vodka from the grocery store.
"I like meeting new people. I like learning new things. Wouldn't have could ever learned French without spending a summer bouncing around Quebec."
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But then the question and the earnest answer follows and he seems easy to let the light offense roll off. Dan was certainly an interesting character, the more he was coming to learn about him.
"He makes installation art. It's where you build up the entire space, rather than having a single piece. His environments have a historical theme, usually." he says. "It... makes more sense when you see it."
Miguel awkwardly finds himself describing a subject he wasn't an expert in, with words that felt lacking for something meant to be absorbed in person rather than spoken of. But the present tense at least hints enough that his brother was alive, even when the close relationship had grown more distant.
"So, what was the end game for all this adventure? Before getting stuck here."
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These things do tend to run in families.
"Didn't have no end game. Just keep moving and meeting people and trying new things until something stuck, I reckon." He wrings his thumb over his knuckle, fiddling with the cap of the water bottle, walking it back and forth over his fingers. "I don't do well with rules, so I was probably going to relocate somewhere rural and south of the border eventually."
Instead of dying here, and as the seasons here change, Dan's realizing that he's just slowly approaching an inevitable death when the cold moves in. It's not that Dan's afraid to die. He just didn't expect it would come this way, spending months circling the drain getting more uncomfortable and unlikable and ostracized until he eventually freezes to death sleeping on the kitchen vent behind a diner.
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"Some tinkering here and there. More like the carpentry than the needlework."
He opts to play off whatever half-birthed pet project was occupying the shed next to the house. Both he and Gabriel liked to build things. Miguel supposes he has enough pride for the tinkering to be an expression, in its own way.
A wrinkle sits between concern and consternation on his brow as Dan explains his plan - or lack of one, rather - for his life. He was right about Miguel being structured, it didn't make a lot of sense to him. Life in a quiet town has lost all appeal to him after this place.
"You must be disappointed in the nature of people after being stuck here."
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He thinks of how, in a different world, he might be invited or invite himself to work on Miguel with some tinkering, to develop a friendship over some common interest. It would be shortlived, naturally, on account of Dan's itinerant nature, but it would be a point of connection.
He sighs. "Yeah. You know, the way I think of it is that everyone's got something decent about them, some good quality I can find and appreciate. I can find a great smile or a quick wit or an earnest heart in anyone. But usually it's easy, and instead these folks turn it into work."
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Miguel listens to that response and finds his mind settling on Dan being far too soft-hearted and gentle for the radioactive accusations lobbed at him. He knows better than to judge on incomplete information, but for some reason it felt right. As unreliable as feelings could be, this one rose up strongly in his chest and stayed there.
"I'm sorry to say that this place is a black hole for artistic talent." he says dryly, and feels a bit silly expressing that in his MineCorp work suit and in the loveless MineCorp truck. It almost punctuated the point. "What would you want to make if you had your options open?"
As the pine trees part away to reveal the town center, he muses on what a Dan-style exhibition might look like. Would they be a series of portraits? Or maybe he would rather lean more on trade skills like the carpentry.
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Dan's smiling at the idea, and then the smile drops off his face as he sees the flashing lights and hears the chirp of the police siren. He automatically puts both hands on the dash where they're visible.
When Miguel pulls over, one of the deputies taps on Miguel's window with her flashlight. She gestures at the scratch on the paint. "Piss someone off?"
She shines her flashlight in Dan's face. "I don't know how many times we have to tell you to be in by dark."
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The conversation is interrupted, swiftly bringing them back to reality in this place. Right. The curfew. He was figuring this might happen.
The truck rolls to a stop off the side of the road when the lights flash in his rear view mirror. Miguel has an ID in hand by the time the deputy steps up to driver side window, in case she asks for it. In the instances where they didn't already recognize him, all the very official MineCorp-Goluboy markers tended to be enough to not get bothered overmuch. The window rolls down.
"Had an interesting afternoon, actually. Some guy on the road attacked the front tire and scratched the paint. Dan helped me get the spare on, that's why he's out."
He figures that's sufficient explanation for being caught. Plus, he has no reason to protect the other asshole after their altercation. If he could toss some fresh meat her way to get them home a little bit faster, he doesn't see why he shouldn't.
[cw: deputy making a CSA joke]
Dan considers pushing back for a moment - he hasn't done anything wrong - but he's technically a fleeing felon and doesn't have any privacy rights. If she wants to pat him down, she's going to pat him down. The deputy doesn't even really look at him as she continues to address Miguel.
"It's not safe to pick up hitchhikers, you know, even the ones who do pretend to be roadside mechanics - alright, hands against the car - and you do understand that we have to ticket you, Mr. O'Hara. Keeping this community safe is all of our responsibility, and you don't just endanger yourself by being out after hours. You're endangering me, who has to check on you, and any passengers that you have in the vehicle." She steps away from Dan with a nip bottle of bottom-shelf rum in her hand from where she dug it out of his jacket pocket. "Alright, you're done. Guess you did a better job hiding the cocaine and kiddie porn this time."
"It ain't illegal for me to have a little alcohol," Dan mutters, getting back into the truck.
"The cap's unsealed, so you should be kissing my ass for not booking you on open container. Again." She shoots a glare at Dan and then at Miguel by association before returning to writing the ticket. She peels it off her pad and hands it to Miguel. "You can pay this or contest it at the courthouse next week. Now, I'm going to be following you on the way back to make sure you get home safely."
Dan turns his head away so he can look out the window and roll his eyes at her framing this as benevolence.
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"Hey-" he begins to protest, but catches himself. Contesting now wouldn't get him very far. Even if they were entirely in the right, arguing with any kind of outrage could be seen as a threat, and would certainly make things worse for Dan. There's not much he can do when being fined was still nicer treatment than spending a night in jail. So he accepts the lecture with the most civil expression he can manage, mouth drawn into a barely-disguised scowl.
"Not even going to ask about the guy that attacked me?" he says dryly. "I feel safer already."
Miguel accepts the paper, reminding himself that the best place to respond on both counts will be at the courthouse. He deeply resents the feeling of helplessness, but at least has some manner of recourse. He catches Dan staring out the window, wondering how the hell he's going to manage.
"You have a place you wanted me to drop you off?"
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Dan waits until the doors of the car are closed and they're already driving before he says anything. "How much did they charge you? If you take it to the courthouse that deputy probably ain't going to show up and you'll win on default, but it'll take the whole day."
He almost apologizes because he wonders if he could have fixed the car a little quicker or only changed the tire instead of getting the brakeline fixed, but he doesn't think that Miguel would have gotten home any sooner if he'd waited for a tow.
"I'm sleeping behind Auntie's. If you can drop me on that block I'd be real grateful."
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Cynicism is easy to default to in this place. He might be able to push his bosses to lend him a day of leave to take care of this as part of the splash damage of the vandalism. That depends entirely on how they're feeling about him that day.
"Are you sure that's an okay spot to drop you off? Won't they still get on your case for being outside?"
Offering Dan to stay with him doesn't come immediately. They had still just met, and he was exhausted and feeling desperate to just have things return to normal. Still, he was mulling the option over in his head - the pros and cons, his read of Dan as a person up until this point.
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His own face is flushed with the lingering sense of humiliation.
“They usually leave me alone once I get back there. Reckon they don’t enjoy fishing me out from back there.”
From the wedge of space between the dumpster and the kitchen vent where Dan’s accumulated enough small comforts - blankets and containers and the like - to make habitation undeniable, he means. It might rain tonight, so Dan would prefer to be there, sheltered by the building’s eaves, than return to his other residence, a tarp tent and some hunting equipment at the edge of the woods.
“No need to tell me details, but who beat up your car? So I know who to avoid.”
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Handcuffs were an apt metaphor, but so were blinders. It was easy for him to hole away in a town he didn't know well and didn't really need to ask much help from. The more he is forced to look closely, the more difficult it is for him to ignore what was going on.
He doesn't press the topic - Dan seemed to be uncomfortable with the line of questions and that wasn't the point of asking. He can fill in the blanks at what sleeping behind a diner does to a person, and how the deputies must see him as an easy target.
"The guy? Pretty sure he's one of the town drunks. Must've been what, in his 50s? About my height, pissed off looking eyes and giant sideburns with the shaggy hair."
Miguel uses one hand to shape gigantic side burns over his mostly clean-shaven face. Okay, maybe he was exaggerating - but they were distinct!
"He was using his keys like little cat claws. Complete nutball."
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"Ah, Logan. I avoid him."
Typically, Dan would be reaching out to someone who so clearly is in need of some emotional support. The man radiates unhappiness and pain, and Dan wonders when the last time someone availed themselves to listen to Logan was. But this town doesn't allow that for him - he so frequently doesn't have the opportunity to socialize at all, much less without having to run a razor-wire course of negative expectations and assumptions, and that's part of what makes this ride with Miguel special. He got to talk to someone and they talked to him about art and traveling instead of seeing how quickly they could get him to go away with a handful of coins or a dollar bill.
Dan hasn't realized how hungry he's been for just a conversation with someone treating him like an equal instead of a nuisance.
"He might could stand to have a more flattering facial hair situation."
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"His hair situation is the least of his problems."
Will be the least of his problems, once he files the right paperwork. Miguel is not nearly as sympathetic to whatever miseries might be haunting the guy. All he knows is that this day was a complete slog because of him, and everyone who says revenge doesnt taste sweet are liars.
As they round the corner with Auntie's a few blocks down, a spattering of rain dots the windshield and elicits a deep sigh out of Miguel. It seems like his mind has been made up on something. In the end, even when it was convenient to look away, he finds the thought of leaving Dan out in the rain deeply wrong. Maybe seeing the way the deputy treated him cemented the point. He doesn't know. Miguel glances towards Dan out of the corner of his eye, fairly certain he is going to regret this.
"Listen..." he starts, awkwardly. "I don't have a spare room, but I have a couch and a roof to stay dry."
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It’s not pride. It’s a desire not to impose, when the situation he’s in means he’s always imposing. He has to ask people for more and that makes him want to do it less.
But he isn’t in a position to turn down a generous offer. He already has painful red chafing from sleeping in wet clothes the last time it rained, and if his sketchbook gets soaked he’ll lose the last means of earning money he has. It would be unconscionably stupid to choose that and end up in even more dire straits.
“But since you’re offering. You happen to have a shower I might could borrow while we’re at it?” If only to not stink up the couch. “If you got anything around your place that needs fixing, I done almost as much handyman and contractor work as grease monkeying. I know Goluboy ain’t the most attendant landlord to repairs.”
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He would have pushed for that himself if Dan agreed, so they can gracefully avoid that conversation. Despite the manual side of his work leaving him fairly disheveled some days, he was fastidious about his living space. Dan's offer makes him feel a little better about opening up his home to a stranger. The trust was shaky, but it was there.
"Nothing would get fixed if I waited for Goluboy. If you're feeling up to a task you want to do, we'll call it a fair trade."
Not that he knows from experience, but he imagines a trade feels a little more dignified than pitiable charity in scenarios like this. So he goes with it. Acutely aware of the lurking headlights in his rearview mirror, he is careful not to slow down too much as they go through town.
"I don't think that deputy is going be happy about us taking a pit stop for too long. There anything you need to grab?"
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Dan considers his belongings behind Auntie's; the only treasured possession he has is his gun, and that's stashed in a waterproof bag in the woods. He wasn't going to risk having it confiscated. "No, I'm fine. I'd hate for them to hassle you a second time."
And Dan has no doubt that they would. "I take it Goluboy's about as good a boss as he is a landlord."
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"Not a lot of engineers around, so he needs my expertise. The worst I get are 'ambitious' timeframes and expectations, which is a problem I've found everywhere."
He is careful about his wording and what he reveals. Dan might be able to read between the lines of his office politics to glean that he was too soured on his work overall to focus his scorn on Goluboy in particular.
"It's not ideal. But if I don't do it, then the job will be passed on to someone else who's sloppier."
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Dan doesn't have personal beef with Goluboy, not really, but he can't ignore the way the millionaire's contribution to the town isn't job creation so much as penalizing small businesses for the audacity of existing and keeping the rent increasing at a rate that forces everyone to tread water. The people's in Goluboy's buildings don't have enough left over to save, and they never will; whatever small boost in income they get, Goluboy swallows up.
But he does read between the lines. The whole work is rotten. Dan isn't surprised.
"We couldn't might do with that. Before you got here, they were sloppy enough that they killed basically all the fish in that lake and turned it into a sludge pit." Which is a tragedy for many reasons, both macro and micro, but one of Dan's concerns is the petty one that fishing for food could have been a means of sustenance for him.
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"It's not impossible to reverse the damage. But you need money and time to clean it up. It's a worthwhile investment if you want to develop the land here. Everyone benefits, I think."
He frowns a little about the condition of the lake, having repeated the same thing to Goluboy many times. He liked lingering around there, walking along the marina. It was the closest thing to the ocean that he could find.
They drive uphill for a time, distancing from the downtown area to a slightly more secluded residential street flanking HQ. The graceless, squat building was like a monument to impenetrable company heirarchy, lit up at night even when it was completely empty. Only a few rows of empty rentals and a thin line of trees split the two.
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Dan wrings his hands as he watches out the window to a part of town he's never been. It didn't occur to Dan that this was a 'company town' for the employees. Dan's heard enough about scrips and company stores to know it's a loser's game, but surely Miguel already knows that.
It's depressing. While Dan's in no position to judge anyone's living situation, there's an emphatic lovelessness emanating from the building strong enough to seem like a scent. Dan wonders if it's just a matter of the designers not caring about comfort and aesthetic or if it was a purposeful effort to strip the hominess out of the residences.
"Do you like your neighbors?" It's hard from here to even tell if the rentals next to Miguel's are occupied.
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Goluboy's influence, no doubt. There was the vision of the company town full of pet intelligentsia mingling and making money happen, somehow.
By the time the truck pulls up to the driveway of the small garage, there's a healthy sprinkle overhead. Given how easy he was to brush off the ticket, it was a simpler lodging than one may expect. The house from the outside looked recently touched up. Old construction done up with a new coat of paint. Motion lights he installed himself flick on to illuminate the path to the front door with overly-bright LEDs.
Taking his bag out from behind the driver's seat, he leaves the truck, fishing for his keys in his pockets on his way over. Once he's sheltered under the eave over the front door, he looks back to see if Officer Early Bedtime was satisfied with following them this far.
He should probably wave, or something.
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Dan doesn’t say that with any hint of moral condemnation. He says it the way someone would describe the rapid decline of a beloved family member, as if it’s some tragedy that begs for a reason and finds none but bad luck.
He holds his breath as they get out and wait for a response from the deputy. Dan’s fully braced for her to find a reason to punish Miguel for sheltering him - harboring a fugitive or something, maybe some ridiculous residency violation about having unrelated strangers over without the landlord’s approval. He even sees her start to get out of the cruiser and he gets tense, but he sees her pat the top of her head to look for her hat and then get back into the vehicle. Whatever punitive nonsense she was planning isn’t worth getting wet.
He exhales when she finally starts driving away. “I was about to feel worse than guilty for bringing trouble to your home.”
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