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 west of City Hall, you will find a small building that houses the tourist information kiosk. The kiosk is not currently operational, but you may want to remember its location...
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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A WASH, ANYONE?
The coin laundromat is tucked into the first floor of one of the tall apartment buildings. Soap is complimentary, and while the machines say that they cost a quarter per load, in reality they are fully operational without any money being exchanged at all. If you have any clothes that need a wash, perhaps items that have been dirtied by your explorations (or your travels before arriving in the city), you may want to take this opportunity to wash them for free.
From the soap dispenser, you can retrieve packets of detergent in different strengths. There's plenty of stock of for mild to moderate grime and for heavy-duty stains, but there are also a handful of packets with slightly less obvious purposes. For things remembered, says one. For unhappy accidents, says another. Feel free to use whichever seems most suited to your needs.
When your laundry cycle has ended, the buzzer sounds and the door pops open so the clothing can be retrieved. You grab a laundry basket and reach in to start pulling fabric out of the machine by the handful. But wait a second–the more clothing you retrieve, the less familiar the items seem, and by the time you've retrieved the last bundled sock from the depths of the dryer you're absolutely positive: These clothes don't belong to you.
You're sure that you put your own clothing into the machine, but these are someone else's clothes entirely. Did someone sneak in while you weren't paying attention and swap out your laundry? Or did you accidentally open up the wrong dryer to retrieve the wrong load? Maybe you'd better look around at whoever else is in the laundromat with you and have a go at trying to find the owner of these clothes.
Whether the characters have had their clothing swapped or simply opened the wrong machine to grab someone else's laundry is up to the player's imagination, but one thing's for sure: you have someone else's clothes in your basket. Maybe these are clothes that belong to another character in the laundromat, or maybe they're garments that belong to someone that character knew back home. Players are encouraged to mess around with the premise and use it to get to know other characters!
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COME ONE, COME ALL...
Have you ever noticed that flickering sign hanging in the window of that little building around the corner from the parking lot? The one that says PSYCHIC READINGS in bold neon lettering?
You step inside the shop and immediately smell a powerful combination of aromas: herbs, candles, incense, something spicy and warm underneath. It's a small space, cluttered with objects. A crystal ball covered in velvet sits in the center of a table, and there are tarot card sets and drawers full of dried herbs and flowers. On the shelves are various remedies with labels printed so neatly it's impossible to tell whether they're typed or handwritten. Headaches, or hemophilia, and also irascibility and fits of sighing. There are also jars full of less easily-identifiable contents, but a close examination may show you frog legs, fish eyes, rat tails. For some reason, it feels like sticking your hand in one of these jars might not be the best idea.
Toward the back of the shop is a glass case that holds the bust of a woman. As you approach, your movement triggers a light inside the case to illuminate the woman's face–or where her face would be, if she had one. The normal human features of her face are smoothed out until they barely resemble a face at all, with slightly hollowed divots for eyes and a faintly raised bump for a nose. The closer you get, though, the more strongly you feel that despite the absence of eyes, the woman is indeed watching you.
The lettering at the top of the case states FORTUNE TELLER, and a sign affixed to the front of the glass says, Ask for anything, but be careful what you wish for.
You form a question in your mind, then ask your question out loud. The woman shifts, straightening up, and you hear the faint whirring of clockwork and pneumatics moving inside her. She gathers her hands in front of her, cupping them like she's holding water, and strange light emanates from her palms, casting harsh illumination on the blank space where her face should be. Although she has no mouth with which to speak, you nonetheless hear a vaguely female voice intone, "Your fate has been read."
A paper slip emerges from a slot in the front of the case, your freshly-printed fortune, the ink barely dry.
Although the crystal ball will not actually show the future, characters with any kind of herbal knowledge may clock that the herbs and remedies in the drawers and shelves of the shop are legitimate. Characters can ask anything they want of the fortune teller, or make as many wishes as they like. They'll get as many fortune slips as correspond to the number of questions they ask. Players are encouraged to come up with whatever vaguely-accurate fortunes you think work for your character, but if you're low on ideas, you can always try an online Magic 8 Ball or fortune cookie generator.
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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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citycenter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
citylogs2023-06-01 12:00 am
Out and About - B!
He supposes it was only a matter of time. The other people he'd encountered had been, by and large, far too pleasant. He was wondering when the streak would break.
When he hears the other's footfalls only a few yards away, he finally turns around, his a sweet but impish smile in place, and pinpricks of red flickering behind his pupils (though it could just be a strange trick of the light - his eyes catching the nearby neon florescents in a peculiar way).]
Let me guess. You also awoke in a metal cart with a peculiar spiritual device asking you nonsense questions, and now you're wondering where you are and how you got here...?
no subject
He doesn’t seem too out of sorts. Interesting. Rico stops and cocks his head at the strange shine in the other man's eyes, makes a mental note of it. But he smirks politely at the joke, even if it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He’s not likely to find answers here. But that’s alright. What he’s really looking for are introductions.]
Wow, [he drawls, with faux-surprise. What a regular mind-reader. Rico’s voice isn’t any less deep when it’s at a conversational volume.] What tipped you off? I’d flip you a cred, but I’m a little short on those.
[He snorts.]
I was just thinking I’d like to make the rounds. Get to know the... neighbors. [Peculiar spiritual device his ass, never heard of a comm? He extends a hand, blatantly sizing him up.] Rico. And you are?
no subject
I'm afraid I too am out of money.
[He flicks back his sleeves, rounding his arms so that his fist meets his palm and bows.]
Fortunately, the restaurants all seem to have left food out, so you probably won't starve. I am Liu Feiyu, a traveling cultivator.
cultural misunderstandings are actually hilarious
Either way, he’s met with a very Sino-Cit gesture, which he knows because Titan is a veritable cultural melting pot of criminals around the world. His mouth quirks up in the corner.]
Not big on handshakes where you’re from, huh?
[Good thing there’s food left out, the guy says, like he’s some kind of stray dog on the street. Asshole. Rico rolls his shoulders.]
Alright, Liu. I’ll bite. [The slightly odd way he pronounces his name is distressingly American. A traveling cultivator of… what exactly? Cannabis?] What do you cultivate?
i love this so much. two men utterly separated by time and culture uwu
[Binghe counters the question with a question. And then, because he can't resist showing off, he lifts his hand, palm up, and with a flick of his wrist a small sphere spiritual energy forms, casting them both in a faint, teal light. He flicks his wrist again and it dissipates into glowing wisps that fade into nothing.]
One cultivates according to martial training and Daoist philosophy. It's really as simple as that.
[It really isn't.]
Now, tell me, why would anyone shake hands...? It seems an overly intimate gesture between strangers.
[His smile remains easy and amiable, but there it is again; faint pinpricks of red behind his pupils there and gone in a flash.]
If one were to pull that sort of trick in the demon realm, they'd be more liable to lose a hand than make a friend.
no subject
And speaking of eyes, that flash of red definitely is not his imagination. He's no stranger to what an easy smile can hide. His own is plenty genial, after all.]
You just answered your own question, buddy, [he points out after a moment, archly.] That's the whole point - it's a gesture of trust. Shows you're not holding any weapons.
[The demon realm. That's where he's from. Alright. Hard to take it seriously when he's pretty sure he's been to a nightclub in Sector 23 called the exact same thing. The big gimmick was that you entered via slide through the mouth of a comically large demon statue. Got busted for sugar-dealing operations a while ago, if he remembers correctly. Which is a shame because he made some good memories there.]
And if one were to wake up in an empty city and call objects as simple as cellphones "peculiar spiritual devices", they'd be more liable to look clueless. [He cocks his head in thought.] Seems like in a place like this, it's better to make friends than enemies.
[Not a warning, just advice. Rico flashes his pearly-whites in a grin of his own.]
no subject
Honesty is so rare.]
Alas, this humble one is from quite a different time and place, just like many others who have been brought here.
[He doesn't lay it on too thick; but he lets the thread of useful information dangle.
Luo Binghe can be a very useful friend in such circumstances.]
no subject
Aw, don’t sell yourself short. [If Liu will allow it, Rico will clasp a far-too-friendly hand on his shoulder.] Waking up in a metal cart with your brains all rattled, trying to figure out what half this stuff even is for the first time… I’m impressed you’re even holding it together.
[Rico makes a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat. He’s really laying it on with a trowel here.]
I wonder why this little showhome seems like it’s closer to my time and place than yours?
[Technically true. This is the kind of small-time amateur hour crap they literally paved over to build Mega-City One.]
no subject
He sets the thought aside because, whatever else, the man - Rico - is right. Better to make friends (or rather, allies) than enemies.]
Who can say? This humble one's experiences with parallel universes is too negligible to come to any substantial conclusions.
[He smirks, shrugging off the hand from his silver-embroidered black silks.]
Ah, I if I recall, the metal cart is called a train.
[A playful, simpering smile.]
Does xiansheng not have them where he is from either...?
no subject
Oh, we have them. Trains are a bit outdated for inner-city travel, though. They’re old news. But research into dimension jumping? That’s new news.
[Or it was by the time Rico set his last foot on real soil. Anyway, truth be told, that’s definitely not the worst kind of crazy. He’s had to deal with worse in Mega-City One, and of course there’s still your pick of the brain-strains on Titan. Though he still might be hiding something in there, by the way Liu looked at Rico’s hand on his shoulder.
He’ll throw him a bone.]
Where I’m from is Mega-City One. 2083 AD. [And because that might mean absolutely nothing to the other man-] This kind of crap is about a century old. I’ll be happy to tell you more about it. And maybe you could show me a few more parlor tricks if you’ve got them up your massive sleeves.
[His grin curves up, just as playful but hardly as simpering. He offers out his hand, for the second time. It’s a very deliberate gesture, and Rico looks at him straight.]
How about it, Liu? Want to be friends?
[It’s a one-time offer. Shake on it?]
no subject
Mega-City One. I see.
[He echoes it, committing the term to memory, along with the date, but doesn't press further questions. Such inquiries will be forwarded to his laoshi.]
It is always good to be on the cutting edge of new discoveries.
[The joke would probably land better if he had Xin Mo in his possession. But then again, if that were the case, he wouldn't be here to make his little pun, having simply grabbed Shen Yuan, cut a hole in the fabric of reality, and legged it back to his own universe.
He eyes the offered hand warily, then shrugs. Ah, what the hell. This merciful lord may as well humour him.
He takes him firmly by the fingers in a sword-calloused hand with a grip like a vice, and shakes.
Vigorously.
It's probably a bit like throwing your arm in a cocktail mixer of a very enthusiastic bartender.
When he lets go, he looks amused, but still rather puzzled by the whole thing.]
Rico-xiansheng, your customs are quite peculiar. I do hope that was sufficient...?
no subject
That’s the spirit.
[Liu’s got working hands. Calloused. Strong grip, too. Now, he wonders what he works with…? Maybe there’s more to the man behind the magic tricks than he thought.
Rico’s own hands have become somewhat more rough in recent times, considering he’s always worn gloves for most of his waking life. Still, he’s felt the impact of a steel plate over his knuckles underneath the padding a couple thousand times, and they toughened up. The sensory memory is so strong that his knuckles itch for a brief moment, and Rico blinks.
He squeezes back, and lets go at the same time Liu does.]
Now - if you’re gonna call me Rico-xiansheng, whatever that means, you don’t mind if I call you Liu-buddy, do you?
no subject
[Said with a pleasant enough smile as Binghe thinks longingly of disemboweling the man. His hand itches for a sword that isn't there. He's killed better men for lesser slights, and it takes him a moment to remember that he is the humble rogue cultivator, Liu Feiyu and not the tyrannical demon emperor Luo Binghe.]
I was only acknowledging xiancheng's seniority. You are the senior party, yes?
[Now he's just being petty.]
rico needs cultural sensitivity training
Or he does, and just doesn’t care. Anyway, good thing Rico has no problems with being considered “the senior party”, as obvious of a dig that it is. He milked being pulled out of the vats twelve minutes earlier than his clone-brother for twenty years. He can run with this for a minute.]
Come on. You calling me old, Liu-buddy? I’m barely a day over twenty-three.
[Rico grins, and runs his thumb along his own chin. More or less. Technically with the accelerated development - well, whatever.]
You, on the other hand… should I take a guess?
no subject
[Imply that he looks it while being immature...? Certainly. (Though it's not as though Binghe has room to speak; he may be emperor of the combined realms but he's also king poser and chuuni!)]
If that is how you wish to amuse yourself, I suppose there are worse games. But! Walk and talk. This most humble one is looking for something.
[With that, Binghe turns on his heel, continues on his way down the sidewalk.]