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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.
no subject
Boba wants to know the secret.
He thinks all the modern tech is weird. Don't miners work with pickaxes and those old carts? This all seems too complicated for digging up rocks. He doesn't even need his flashlight! The way the machine noises echo is kind of cool, though, and the overhead lights make the shadows look creepy as hell.
The tunnel starts getting smaller, but Boba doesn't mind. He's not claustrophobic, and he's short enough that it's not a big deal.
Cato is going to be so jealous when he hears about this.
Then the machines stop. Boba takes a few steps, but they're really loud and the echo is really weird, so he stops. Then he realizes that it isn't an echo, there's someone coming! He's gotta hide, he can't get caught. This isn't just regular trouble, like stealing candy bars or spray painting in alleyways, this is big trouble. Trouble that could get him thrown out of the house, or the town, and arrested and put in jail just like his social worker said.
Boba should hide. He's good at hiding. There aren't a lot of places to go, but if he's crouched behind a support strut, stays very quiet, and doesn't move maybe he won't be noticed.
It's that or running deeper into the mine, but the tunnel has to end somewhere and then he'll just be trapped.
No, better to hide.
no subject
"Briar. Are you there?"
"Shoot."
"The dig was cleared out before I started the test procedure today, right? Anyone missing?"
"Heads are accounted for up here. Found some stress in the old wood trusses upstairs, though. We're taking measurements. Why, something show up?"
The footfalls of his work boots stop as he looks down at a peculiar smear of dust on the rails and the base of the hydraulics. A hand print? Or was that just his imagination? The hand was awfully small if it was.
"...The automatic shutdown was set off."
"Think it could've been an error?"
"It's not an error. I don't build junk, Briar. There's something here." he retorts, annoyed. "I'll report back in ten."
He then shuts off the radio, surveying the area. A red light on the shearer, dimly blinking its silent alarm. The system had definitely detected something down here. He starts to search: first around the shearing machine, then following the trail of the dust smear. He sticks his head in between two hydraulic struts, having a more difficult time navigating the tight space than Boba does.
no subject
Boba makes himself stay very, very still. Even as the steps grow louder. He doesn't let himself panic, because fear is the enemy. He needs to stay in control of himself.
He isn't actually holding his breath, but he is breathing slowly and shallowly through the mesh of his shirt.
He pushes himself further against the strut, but his back must've shifted against something. A few pebbles and a trail of dust fall from the ceiling above him. It's only now that he starts to wonder if this place is stable.
The rocks above him don't seem to want to fall and crush him into a bloody paste, so that's good. He doesn't think the rocks hitting the floor is enough to catch the attention of whoever's coming. He just needs to keep quiet.
Boba wishes he could close his eyes, but that would be too much of a risk.
Don't talk. Don't move. Don't breathe.
no subject
Although his face is obscured by the half-mask, his eyes are visible enough to betray surprise when he gets a glimpse of a living thing in the forest of steel, rock and rubber. Some of the lightbeams catch a bit of reflective sneaker-strip and dusty, tousled hair.
"A kid...?" he thinks aloud. How on earth did a kid get in here?
"Hey, are you all right?"
His first thought is to offer a hand, the kid was either stuck in the crevice or too terrified to move?
no subject
Unfortunately, during all that Boba manages to lose his flashlight, and the tunnel seems to be getting darker and dark as he goes on. It takes him a few moments to realize that he's running the wrong way. He's moving deeper into the mines.
It's too late to turn around. His mind is racing to come up with a new plan-- his best bet is to get as far ahead as he can and find a proper hiding spot this time so he can sneak back out when the guy goes past him. Same plan as before, but hopefully with a better execution.
Right now the only thing he needs to focus on is running.
no subject
"You--!" he grunts in a rage that subsides the instant he realizes the boy making a break for it. "Wait, stop running!"
What the hell?! Some kind of feral child raised by bears? As the pain subsides, Miguel spins around to make chase. He can't let some stray get lost in the mines - much less near all the large and dangerous machinery. He notices the dropped flashlight and scoops it up as he pursues, trying to catch a glimpse of the kid with his headlamp.
"You're going the wrong way!"
His voices echoes off the walls deeper down the coal vein.