A TRAIN COMES INTO THE STATION.
You wake up on a train.
Your phone is buzzing. It's in your pocket, in your hand, on the seat next to you. It's a normal phone, and you're on a normal train car. One of the lights flickers, a little further down. The world is very quiet. It feels like you're right where you're meant to be. On the phone's surface is a white screen and the words—
WELCOME TO THE CITY. BEGIN ORIENTATION?
▶ NO
Please take a moment to complete your orientation.
Once you're finished, the subway doors slide open to let you out onto the train platform. To your right, the platform continues on and eventually ends; to the left is a set of stairs that will lead you up into the station itself. The platform is quiet, clean, empty—there's no one else around, and the only sounds you can hear are your own footsteps, your own breaths, and the occasional faraway sound of a creaking pipe or rush of air. The train you disembarked will stay there as long as you do, its doors still open, until you finally decide to venture up into this new locale.
As you make your way up the stairs to your left, you find yourself in the belly of City Hall station. The station is large, a sprawling underground mini-metropolis of corridors and storefronts. Here, you may find others like you, freshly-arrived city residents from other realms (or even your own). There is also a subway map, which will give you an idea of the layout of the neighborhood, and ticketing machines, which can currently only be used to buy tickets to a handful of stations located on lines 1, 2, and 9.
If you're hungry or in need of any kind of supplies, there are plenty of storefronts inside the subway station as well—snack stands, convenience stores, restaurants, clothing stores, a pharmacy, and a variety of empty shops that may or may not have ever been in use. Everything is unlocked, and you can take whatever you need.
Characters may stay on the train platform indefinitely, and may re-board and re-disembark from the subway as many times as they like, but the train will not depart nor will the doors close. Once they go up the stairs into the train station, they may hear the train doors closing and the train departing. Another train will not arrive, no matter how long the character waits. Only once they come up the stairs into the station itself may characters encounter their fellow newly-arrived residents and take advantage of what the city has to offer.
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WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD.
The station is located in the city center. It has three major exits that lead to areas of interest in the district, but there are several other smaller exits that lead in other directions around the neighborhood. You are welcome to use any of them, but may find the north, southwest, and east exits to be the most welcoming.
TO THE NORTH
The northern entrance to the station leads up into the sunlight and puts you out in a brickwork plaza. There's a modest building in front of you, three or four stories of stone with a welcoming facade. There's a sign above the entryway—it says City Hall. You may be tempted to explore, if you're interested in learning more about the city and how it functions, but prepare to find yourself disappointed—the folders in the records rooms are full of empty, blank sheets of paper, and the logbooks and balance sheets are similarly devoid of information.
Immediately to the southwest of City Hall, you will find a small building that houses the tourist information kiosk. It looks welcoming, with an inviting glass facade and a sign above the entryway announcing it as the "TOURIST CENTER." It's a humble building with a receptionist's desk on the back wall opposite the entrance, empty magazine shelves lining the side walls, and a few spinning brochure racks full of blank pamphlets. Anyone is welcome to peruse the tourist literature, though they won't offer much information, being primarily filled with pictures of the surrounding area—City Hall, the park, a statue garden, and the surprisingly heavily-featured cemetery. There are a few sentences sprinkled throughout about basic offerings of the city, such as apartment complexes and office buildings, as well as a few maps with the same limited scope as the larger version on the wall behind the receptionist's desk.
The main feature of the tourist center is the interactive kiosk installed dead in the center, right in the middle of a few rows of uncomfortable chairs that fill the small room. It's noticeably in the way of any would-be foot traffic through the tourist center, and something about the technology seems a little more modern than the computer behind the desk or the landline phone on the wall. The kiosk is a tall silver rectangle, about average adult height, and the upper half is a screen welcoming visitors to touch it to activate the kiosk. If you were to touch it, the screen would come to life with simple dialogue inviting visitors to ask it their questions.
However, residents should note that the kiosk is only programmed to assist with exploration within the available areas of the city. It may not be able to answer every question, and tampering with the kiosk may result in unreliable or inaccurate answers!
TO THE SOUTHWEST
The western exit of the station takes you up into a city park, lush and green with a very light fog still hanging about the trees. There are lampposts on the walkways and benches where you could rest, and plenty of flora, although you can neither see nor hear any signs of animal life. You walk the paths that meander idly through the verdant grass and you feel a sense of peace, some of your unease about this place easing into a pleasant calm. The air smells fresh, like it's recently rained, and you'll find the grass ever so slightly damp should you decide to take a seat.
As you make your way deeper into the park, the trees grow denser and the smell of soil and plant life grows stronger. This is the older part of the park, very nearly a forest, with ivy climbing the trunks of the trees and plants and shrubs growing riotously around their bases. As you turn a corner, you find yourself first in the statue garden, although the statues are harder to see now, choked as they are with ivy. There are many statues, some partially obscured, some fully—very few of them still stand free of the vines and clinging roots. (It doesn't feel quite as peaceful here.) If a statue's face looks a little bit familiar, you may not want to look at it too long.
Continue down the path and you will find yourself in a graveyard, one that seems centuries old. Most of the headstones are worn away by time and covered in moss, rendering them impossible to read. The few that are free of moss are blank, or bear only suggestions of names too faint to be understood. (Was that the name of—no, it couldn't have been. Could it?) Many of the headstones stand at an angle or are toppled over completely, having been subjected to either strong winds or the roots of the trees that grow up from some of the graves, spreading branches toward the sky.
TO THE EAST
The final exit of the station, to the east, puts you out on a quiet surface street. Are you hungry? Or are you paralyzed by choice? There are plenty of restaurants, offering options of almost any food you can imagine. You could try a convenience store—it's well stocked, and the items there seem free for the taking. How about a restaurant? There's no one to take your order, but when you look in the kitchen, there's something on the stove, and it's just what you've been craving. Imagine that.
A few blocks down, you come in through the lobby of a tall building and find yourself in a corporate office. The fluorescent lights are steady and unforgiving, and the cubicles and offices are empty. There are a few pieces of paper on desks, a few folders left in organizers, but everything is perfectly blank. Despite how empty and quiet the office is, it nonetheless gives you the feeling that just a few minutes ago, this place was bustling with workers going about their daily business.
You enter another building and find yourself in the lobby of an apartment complex—finally, a place to rest. The first door you try opens easily into a completely empty living room, freshly vacuumed but without a single piece of furniture. It's a nice apartment, quiet, but with a little too much echo for your taste, maybe. Still, and perhaps oddly, you have no trouble envisioning what life here would be like.
The second door you open leads to an apartment that feels lived-in. Why does it feel lived-in? It's fully furnished with items that seem to go together perfectly, true, but the feeling is more than that—the room feels like someone was just here, maybe standing right in the kitchen only moments before you swung the door open. The air is a perfectly comfortable temperature, and it somehow smells like home despite that you've never once set foot here before. The refrigerator is stocked, and the cabinets are full of spices and flatware and kitchen utensils.
As you look around the living room, you find that there are pictures in frames on the walls and some of the flat surfaces—a seascape, a field, a shot of a city park bench. In each of the photos there's something just slightly wrong with the angle, as though the photographer were aiming for a subject that can no longer be seen.
Characters are welcome to explore the district around the City Hall subway station to their heart's content. The City Hall building itself contains several floors of offices and file rooms, but none of them contain any particularly interesting information. Nonetheless, characters may wish to team up with other newcomers and try to find some hints about the nature of the city. They can also spend a while in the park, the statue garden, or the graveyard. In the blocks surrounding the station there are plenty of options for food and housing, as well as office buildings, storefronts, and alleyways to look around. There are no workers in any of the buildings, and there does not seem to be an honor system for payment, nor any consequences for taking food from the stores or setting up camp in an apartment or office building.
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I SCREAM, YOU SCREAM.
Have you ever visited the ice cream parlor located in District 2? It's a pretty quirky little joint!
When you walk in, what you'll likely notice first is the colors. Everything is bright, almost oversaturated—the pink of the leather seats, the teal of the walls, the red of the menu sign hanging over the counter. By all rights it seems like these colors shouldn't go together, but somehow they do, or maybe that's just because being in an ice cream parlor puts you in a good mood. It smells like waffle cones, and overhead, there's music pumping through the speakers at just the right volume, providing some nice background noise to your decision-making process.
Wait, music?
There's a jukebox at the far end of the shop, which seems to be where the music is being chosen. As you head over, the song comes to an end and the jukebox machinery shuffles through its options before landing on a new one. The song sounds sort of familiar, doesn't it? And the longer you listen, the more the lyrics really seem to speak to you. It costs money to pick your own song, so if you happen to have some coins on you—or if you're really, really determined—you can choose the next round of tunes.
When you're done at the jukebox, you can go check out the serving area of the shop. Behind the counter you can see milkshake mixers and waffle cone makers; there are ice cream cakes in the freezers that line the wall; and when you approach the main counter you can see the tubs of ice cream in almost any flavor you can imagine.
Pick a flavor, whichever one's your favorite! Do you want it in a cone or in a bowl? There are regular cones and waffle cones, and all kinds of toppings—sprinkles, syrups, gummy candy, mini marshmallows. Decorate your ice cream however you want, the sky's the limit when it comes to choices! You can even come back for seconds if you want, or thirds. Who's going to say anything about it, after all?
But the more of your ice cream you eat, the more you start to feel… strange. Maybe you're starting to get angry, or sad, or giddy—maybe you feel romantic, or feel like you want to tell a secret to a stranger, and you're not really sure why. You also can't quite seem to stop eating your ice cream, and the more you eat, the less worried you feel about whatever's happening to your emotions. After all, why be concerned about that when you have something so delicious in front of you?
| Flavor |
Effect |
| Strawberry |
You find yourself compelled to seek out strangers and tell them a hidden truth about yourself |
| Rocky Road |
You find yourself compelled to seek out strangers and convince them of some egregious lie |
| Vanilla |
You are overwhelmed by a sense of total calm, and can only speak in aphorisms and platitudes |
| Rainbow Sherbert |
You are overwhelmed by amorous feelings towards whoever is near you and try to cuddle or kiss them |
| Chocolate |
You feel suddenly morose about something in your past and cannot stop crying until someone consoles you |
| Bubblegum |
You become uncontrollably giggly and giddy, and can only speak in rhyme |
| Caramel Ribbon |
You become angry and perhaps even violent, trying to attack anyone who comes near |
| Mint Chocolate Chip |
You suddenly have a common but exaggerated phobia (for example, a fear of heights where the step down off the curb is too much) |
When characters first enter the ice cream parlor, they may notice that there's music playing overhead! That's from the jukebox, and the lyrics of the song may sound like they're particularly apt for a character's circumstances. Players are welcome to choose their own jukebox songs for their characters—it doesn't need to have appeared in canon, but characters from modern times are welcome to recognize the music being played. (Players can also feel free not to pick a real song at all, and instead just describe the overall sound of the song and content of the lyrics!)
This is an ice cream parlor, so of course there's also ice cream to be had. Characters can serve themselves whatever flavor combination they want, but shortly thereafter will find themselves suffering certain emotional effects depending on what flavors they chose. These emotional effects, shown above, will last for roughly an hour before slowly dissipating, and their intensity depends on how much ice cream the character ate and whether they were able to recognize what was happening and stop eating. Not every flavor has an emotional effect, so players can also choose to have their character eat a normal scoop and go about their day.
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WILDCARD.
The city is by no means small, and there are plenty of things for you to see. There's no rush in exploring, so feel free to take your time looking around and peering into various nooks and crannies and alleyways—and don't worry, you're not very likely to find anything peering back.
If none of the above prompts appeal, feel free to check out the Locations and Maps pages and write your own freestyle prompt using one or many of the available locations.
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citylogs2023-08-02 12:00 am
no subject
[ He hums, still lingering on another sip, minding the unpleasant taste and mouthfeel less and less. Some of these are unexpectedly strong despite the sweet flavor, like drinking juice instead of alcohol. ]
Sake is my favorite. It’s the best! [ a good mood gotten better with the tipsy edge, he’s happy to chat on and on—] I started drinking that with my family when I was young. I can drink pretty much anything now though, they don’t give you the good stuff in prison. Oh, did I even tell you my name? It’s Rokurou, Rokurou Rangetsu, at your service.
[ He stares at the numerous opened cans around, boldly making a decision: ]
This’s the best one from here.
[ A can labeled “Long Island iced tea, APV 18%” … no wonder he’s feeling nice. ]
no subject
[ Not that he's spent much time there himself. Or has he? These are the mysteries of Molly.
But his new friend has a name! Good job remembering to do that before they're both completely shitfaced. ]
Mollymauk Tealeaf, at yours. Call me Molly if we're going to be drinking together.
[ He peers at the can Rokurou holds out, but none of it means anything to him even if he bothered to read it closely. Ah well. ]
May I?
no subject
[ Take the can, Molly. Rokurou passes it over before squatting onto the floor in a comfortable sit. Since it seems that they're going to be drinking, he may as well make himself comfortable. ]
Alright, Molly. How about a drinking game?
[ He holds up a new can that he's opened, giving it a shake before taking another sip. Maybe the trick is to drink until it starts tasting good after all; he doesn't mind the mouthfeel or flavor nearly as much now that the alcohol is starting to warm his belly. A slow start, but he is satisfied with the outcome. ]
I've just arrived here and they've taken my sword, so I can use some cheering up. I can't believe they took it, [ he sighs before taking another sip, ] just like that. That sword is my life. How the hell am I s'possed to find it in this place?
no subject
[ He'd been in the midst of gracefully folding himself into sitting crosslegged on the ground, but at that he can't help but lean forward dramatically. ]
I had two of them. Two! And they're both gone! I liked those swords.
[ This is accompanied by a dramatic pout, but there's something real beneath the overacting. To be frank, Molly's not exactly at his most dangerous without a sword in hand, and he's not quite optimistic enough to think he won't need to be wary. Still, at least he's apparently not the only one. Maybe that will put them in slightly more even ground.
Or maybe Molly will find out what dying feels like a third time. He gives a melancholy sigh and toasts Rokurou with his can. ]
To absent heirlooms. [ And then downs most of the can. Surely that can't be a bad idea. ]
no subject
Oh? I actually had three on me, but one is irreplacable. I'm not happy about my short swords goin' missing, but my long sword... that sword's my life. What m'I s'pposed to do without my life?
[ The drinks are so sweet that it does not feel like he's drinking alcohol. It makes it easy to pop open another in quick succession. With the alcohol going straight to his head, lightweight he is, the taste does not matter a lick anymore. The warmth flooding out from his belly is familiar and good. ]
Are you a dual wielder too?
no subject
[ He lets the innuendo hang in the air for a second before ruining it with something almost like a giggle. Molly may not be a lightweight but even he has his limits. He finishes his current drink anyway before wriggling his fingers at Rokuro in the hopes that he'll be passed something new. ]
Yes, yes. Never could get the hang of those massive ones, you know. My friend has a sword that's near taller than I am. [ She's also considerably stronger than Molly is, but nevermind. ] But two at once, people don't always see coming. 'S better to be sneaky, you see.
[ But he does sigh a little, performatively melancholy but with something a bit more genuine behind it. ]
Never you mind about the sword, dear. We'll find you something new to live for.
no subject
He can at least nod in agreement about being sneaky. The foundation of his family’s style involves quite a bit of subterfuge. It’s the last bit that dumbfounds him completely. ]
Something new to live for?
[ Parroted back, with absolutely no understanding. The idea does not make sense to him. The sword was what he was born for, raised on, served his lord with. It’s been everything. His past, his weakness, his failures. When he dies, it will be by the sword. ]
What else is there? [ he reclines his head back, resting his skull against the edge of one of the shelves, ] I’m a tool for war. I’m not good for anything else.
[ A surprisingly honest confession for someone he’s just met, but alcohol has always made his tongue loose. ]
no subject
[ Molly immediately leans forward, fixing him with as severe an expression as he can manage while his eyes aren't quite focusing right. The lack of pupil makes it hard to tell anyway. ]
No one's a tool for anything. We make our own destinies.
[ Oddly impassioned, or maybe not considering how overdramatic Molly is about most things and he's already well past his way to tipsy besides. But there's an undercurrent behind it that makes the emphasis more than just a show. It's something Molly decisively believes down to his bones, and he is more than happy to drag anyone else he finds along with him.
Especially as delightful company as Rokurou. For him to think of himself as an object? Absolutely not. He will fix this with every bit of alcohol-soaked determination he has. ]
That just means you haven't found what else you're good at yet. Never you fear, Molly is here to help.
no subject
Hmm ... I'm good at cutting too. That's still with a sword, though.
[ From the semi-serious way he suggests that as his other good thing, he's genuine, and not making a joke. Only semi because the alcohol has him smiling. It warms him from head to toe, finally in full swing after downing a few cans in quick succession. The harder stuff is for sipping. Whatever this stuff is, it is for chugging (he will change his mind about this later). ]
I don't mind it, I like fighting. The way of the sword is really fun. [ he blinks, and then flexes his fingers, ] Dunno what m'gonna do without my swords now! I'm really in trouble, hahaha.
no subject
Well who doesn't like a good fight?
[ Obviously it wasn't going to be that easy to convince him, but Molly won't forget it. Note to self, find someone a purpose in life. No problem. ]
Clearly the answer is to try everything until you find something else you like. [ This pronouncement accompanied by Molly waving his can around in the air until the lightness of it reminds him that it's empty. Well that just won't do. ] And also that you should hand me another one of those things. I've got to catch up with you, you see, and you've been cheating.
no subject
[ The cheeky grin he says that with is not trustworthy whatsoever. Reaching over to the fridge, Rokurou pulls out a few more cans and sets them in front of Molly. One, two, three, four—all different. Then he points and counts between them, playing a game with himself until landing on one and tapping the top. ]
Al'ight, you hav'ta drink this one next.
[ It's a bright pink colored beverage with dangerous words like "bubblegum" "chocolate" and "whisky" printed across the can. Rokurou giggles, delighted again at making someone drink something unpleasant. ]
no subject
Without breaking eye contact, Molly cracks open the can with a now-practiced movement and takes a good long drink. The resulting grimace doesn't have to be faked, even with as tipsy as he is, but it might still be a little overdone anyway. ]
Good lord who makes these things? And why?
[ What did good alcohol ever do to you, mystery person?
It doesn't stop him from continuing to drink it, but opinions need to be stated. ]
no subject
So what's your purpose? [ he tilts his head back, considering, ] Or not purpose, not purpose. Story? Story's a better word. I like that better for you.
no subject
[ Some of them are even true! He grins lazily and leans back, gesturing expansively with his can of alcoholic foulness. Let not drunkenness get in the way of a good tale, Molly's eyes even seem to sharpen slightly of their slightly tipsy daze at the thought of it. ]
Which would you like? Dashing heroism, narrow escapes? Clever trickery?
no subject
[ Who doesn't love dashing heroism, narrow escapes and clever trickery? The daemon hums, tossing through the options, before throwing out a different thought altogether. ]
What's your favorite? I want to hear that one.
no subject
[ He thinks for a good drunken moment or two, fingers tapping restlessly against the can in his hand, before a smile suddenly stretches across his face. Something oddly fond, for how much alcohol his currently in his system. ]
So there I was, minding my own business and getting a drink in some tiny little town barely deserving a name, when I hear a commotion outside. Some such yelling about demons and abominations, so of course that requires a look. What I find instead is a ring of villagers surrounding a lovely young lady with some impressive wings and a sword taller than I am.
[ He pauses here to take a drink, almost reflexive. ]
So of course what can I do but drive off the ravening crowd with my wit and intellect and sheer force of presence and rescue the fair maiden.
[ He'd thrown bullshit until they'd finally wandered away, but the general effect is the same. The rest of it is largely true, unusual for Molly's stories. He might be a bit too drunk to convincingly come up with good lies at the moment. ]
no subject
[ Gently teasing. The story does make him smile—it sounds like the kind of thing that would have happened back in Midgand. It does not make him "miss" home—but it does remind him that he has a duty to fulfill and a promise to keep. Staying in this city long would be troublesome. ]
So daemons aren't popular where you're from, either? Can't say I'm surprised. [ he hums, contemplative, ] It doesn't sound like she was one though. Not that some daemons don't have wings.
no subject
Oh gods no. I've entirely the wrong bits for that and she's far to good for me besides. She did come traveling with us, though.
[ A toast to absent friends, and Molly drains the rest of the can. He even manages to do it without flinching this time. It might be worrisome that he's getting used to these tastes. ]
People have their suspicions, and I can't say the hellish are always looked upon fondly, no. [ He gestures dryly to his own horns with his free hand. ] But you're right, she's not. Never did get the whole story on what the wings are about, but she doesn't have them all the time. So.
[ A philosophical shrug. Sometimes you pester people about their oddities and sometimes you know when to leave well enough alone. ]
no subject
The hellish? Never heard that one before.
[ Speaking of oddities. Rokurou has met plenty of other daemons with various characteristics, including horns, so he had just assumed that Molly was one too… he tilts his head, curiosity winning the best of him. The liquid courage doesn’t hurt, either. ]
Are you one?
no subject
Mm, not exactly. [ He lets that hang for a moment before grinning wide, red eyes gleaming a bit. ] But the story goes that all tieflings have something infernal in their bloodline. So who's to say, really.
[ The whole speaking the language of the hells thing probably doesn't help much either, but that's apparently a moot point here. ]
Have much experience there yourself, dear?
no subject
Yeah, I’m a daemon. A Yaksha, specially, if you’ve heard of it. We come in all shapes and sizes so I thought you might be one too.
[ He waves his hand casually, as if talking about the weather. ]
As long as you aren’t going to try to kill me right now, it doesn’t matter. I’m too tipsy for a proper run.
no subject
And do off with such pleasant company? Perish the thought.
[ Honestly, this might be the most fun he's had for a while. ]
Besides, look how much we still have yet to try. You're not giving up on me already, are you?
no subject
[ Even if he is beginning to feel quite drunk. It all goes to his head quickly these days—as much as he loves to drink, Rokurou firmly sits in the lightweight class. Still, his words are true: the man does not know how to give up. Especially when there's a bit of a challenge in it.
He cracks open another can. ]
I might fall asleep here though. No one's gonna come kick me out, are they?
no subject
[ Bold words from someone who doesn't look like he's doing much better than Rokurou, but it's the principle of the thing. A solemn promise is a solemn promise even when you're listing to the side when you give it. ]
No no, darling, we're in this for the long haul now. If we leave before we've tasted one of everything I shall be sorely disappointed.