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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.
1
[But while not typical, occasionally Crowley will open the door and no one will be there. And instead, from the shadows of the stairwell, he'll hear:]
Psst, Mr. Crowley. Mr. Crowley. It's me. Cato.
[(Like it could be anyone else psst-ing at him from the stairwell.)]
[The fact Cato is hiding is because either a) it's after curfew and he's worried about being seen out and maybe ratted on by one of the other tenants, and/or b) he has pissed off the sheriff or one of her deputies and is worried about another tenant ratting him out, or one of said deputies might be maybe searching the place for him.]
[It's happened before, after he couldn't successfully dodge a tail by ducking into the building. Since then, he clearly thinks the safest route when he thinks the fuzz might be after him is psst-ing from the dark of the stairwell that doesn't have working lights.]
[Right now it is a little of column A and a little of Column B. Yes, he pissed off a deputy by getting caught doing a blunt with his board off the bumper of their cop car, without realizing they were napping inside. And yes, after trying to lose them for like a half hour, it's after curfew. Even if he wanted to try to get back to his foster parents, curfew's a thing for like everybody, honestly.]
Can I crash at your place? Deputy Sausage Roll is pro'lly still circling the block to try to catch me breaking curfew.
[He has specific nicknames for all the deputies in town, and all of them are assorted pork products naturally. ]
no subject
So when he opens the door to an empty hallway, the initial reaction is confusion followed quickly by annoyance at the thought that someone's playing silly buggers. That resolves into a sort of fond, mild annoyance when he hears Cato's voice.
If it weren't for some of the other visitors he has, he'd just give Cato a damn key, but sometimes he needs a little privacy, so he has to deal with the nonsense.]
Come on in, kid. You know my flat's kosher.
[Naturally all the nicknames are pork products, and naturally Crowley is willing to roll with that joke, considering his general disdain for cops.]
no subject
[Sometimes Mr. Crowley was sarcastic but the joke was smart in a way he didn't always get, but that one he understood.]
[He hurries in, just as feet can be heard heavily stamping up the other stairwell up the hall. There's also a lot of huffing and puffing. Officer Sausage Roll was skinny as a rail and didn't seem to have enough muscle to retain even the tiniest bit of endurance, something that was always to Cato's benefit.]
Whew. Close one.
[He tosses his board down and immediately heads for Crowley's kitchen, looking for a snack, which is no shocker. It's not like he doesn't get fed but his foster parents don't seem to care enough to keep two boys fed enough to not still be a little hungry.]
I didn't do anything wrong. Obviously.
[He has never done anything wrong in his life ever.]
no subject
[This is also a joke.
The door is shut and carefully locked behind Cato, and Crowley lingers by it for a moment or two in case there's a follow-up knock from the officer. He's careful not to spend too much time around Cato when they're out in public, in case anyone gets fucking weird about it, so he's not expecting Sausage Roll to connect the dots.
Still, never hurts to be careful, and the flat is small enough he can still keep an eye on Cato.]
Obviously. [More than a little sarcastic.] You want me to whip up some eggs?
[He remembers being a teenager.]
no subject
[Cato himself had been anxious in the beginning and kept his butterfly knife close but by now he knew for sure Crowley was safe. He wasn't quite good at being daddish about it but he was trying hard enough he could at least pull off cool uncle-ish.]
Yeah, that'd be good. I haven't eaten since school.
[As it stood, he snagged an apple and practically skipped over to Crowley's records and record player.]
Can I listen to more of your old guy music?
no subject
It means he can get started on those eggs.]
You ever need a meal, swing by the coffee shop and tell 'em it's on my tab.
[Cato is a little shit on occasion, but Crowley trusts him enough not to take advantage of that offer, the same way he trusts Cato not to steal his shit when let into his personal space.]
Depends. You wanna rephrase that without calling me old?
[The answer is yes, it always is, but he has to make a token protest about being called old.]
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You know I can't. Some of this stuff is, like, three times as old as me.
[He walks over and pat pats Crowley in the arm, sighing in compassionate resignation.]
It's happening again, isn't it. You forgot what year it is. That'd be the dementia.
[He is a very good kid. He is also a very smartass kid at times.]
no subject
[This is why he's never having kids.
He playfully swats at Cato with the spatula, with no real intention of actually connecting.]
Careful, I'll forget what I'm cooking and you'll end up with sugar in your eggs.
[He could've made a joke about forgetting who Cato is and kicking him out, but that's a line he's not going to cross, not with everything the kid's been through. He remembers being a teenager in this way, too.]
no subject
[Someone that actually notices he's there.]
[He tries not to think about it but it's a pain spot, not having what he used to have. A spot of pain in his chest. And when he's here in a place that reminds him of the home he used to have with his dad, that pain spot stops hurting for a while.]
[When Anthony swats at him he laughs and dances away and then goes over to all the records. He's looked through them many times now and knows how they're organized. He finds a band that had other songs he liked and puts a record on.]
["News of the World" by Queen starts to play and the initial thump thump clap, thump thump clap, of "We Will Rock You" makes him want to kick the floor but he knows the people downstairs might not like that, so he grabs his skateboard and puts it across his lap upside down and just taps on the deck and snaps his fingers. Tap tap snap. Tap tap snap.]
This is really good. I like how crazy that one was last time I was here, the one where there's three parts and they're like singing opera nonsense words, but this one kicks ass.
no subject
He's going to crumble to dust.]
Freddie Mercury was a man of many talents.
[The rest of the band is good, too, but listen.]
It's a damn shame there's barely any live music in this hellhole. When I was your age I was sneaking out to all sorts of shows. I reckon you'd have liked it.
[Music is good for that, and there's something to be said for jumping around in some dark, grimy club and screaming along with the lyrics that's deeply cathartic. It'd probably be good for Cato, having an outlet.
Yet another way this town has failed the kids.]
no subject
[A lot of young people in this town say that and never leave. Only people that bow and curtsy and please Cygne and snag a scholarship seem to get away. They have to fold themselves into pleasing little boxes to do it, though, and that's not Cato's style.]
[The rest? This place just drags them back every time they try to leave, like a ghoul dragging victims into a mass grave, and they wither with the years in the mines or the slaughterhouses. Just like how the older people wash up here like driftwood and no storm is ever big enough to free them and float them back out to sea. They just bleach in the sun.]
[But - and here's a big but - Cato should already be broken. What is the slow withering death of the soul this town causes when compared to surviving a crucible of grief and suffering? He'd climbed out of the fire and walked over to a bar covered in blood that wasn't his own - a baptism - still molten.]
[The glow hasn't gone away. There's hurt underneath, naturally - fear and pain and sadness and grief - but there's still a glow. He still looks, at all times, like he wants to hang upside down from the ceilings, far too imperfectly energetic to please someone like Cygne. (Far too happy, rather than well-behaved.) He makes his art and not only has the audacity to sneak it into the library, he graffitis it on walls where the sheriff will see - and is smart enough to not get caught.]
After I leave and go to school and get some kinda grown up job, you can come visit me.
[He bites into the apple, listening to the music and still bopping his feet.]
no subject
If nothing else, he's glad that Cato still has some hope, unlike most of them. It's why Crowley opened up a secondary account at the bank, where a tiny sliver of his paycheck goes every week. In five years or so, there ought to be enough in there to help Cato get a decent start at life. Just because he's resigned to being trapped here doesn't mean he has to give up on the kid.]
Oh, how generous of you. [The sarcasm is strong.] Who says I won't be outta here by then? You can do your freelance artist work and come visit me in London.
[It's easier to pretend with someone like Cato, to keep his own cynicism from leaking out so it doesn't damage Cato's hope.]