THE THINGS I GAVE YOU.
» THE BANK — INTRODUCTORY NOTES
District 2 is open, bringing with it access to new and interesting locations—including the city's main bank branch. The bank is a large building with a stone exterior, wrought iron grating on the windows, and large, heavy metal doors that take surprisingly little effort to open, their hinges silent and well-oiled.
Early in the day on July 19, characters in the vicinity of the bank will hear first a low, metallic creaking sound from inside the building, like metal straining against metal. This is followed by the sharper noise of locks disengaging, and then the large, heavy doors on the front of the building swing open slightly, enough to let a person through.
Directly inside the doors is the bank lobby, and beyond that is the main banking floor, with elegant marble flooring and dimly lit chandeliers. It would appear that this was once the main commercial bank of the city, although it is now completely empty, with no tellers behind the counters and no cash in any of the drawers.
You may rifle through the tills and filing cabinets to your heart's content, but similar to the files in City Hall, there is no useful information to be found—all the papers are blank, or are empty forms without any personally identifying information. There are no monetary devices to be found either; this is, after all, not a city that operates on a cash system, so there are no coins or paper bills in any of the tills or, indeed, anywhere within the bank.
What you might be able to find, though, is a rack of delicate, burnished brass keys on a wall toward the back of the main banking hall. Each of these keys is attached to a stamped metal keychain bearing a name on one side and a number on the other. Some of these may be names you recognize, and some of them may not, but they are all names belonging to current residents of the city, and each key corresponds to a safety deposit box within the vault at the back of the building. Can you remember what you stored in that box for safekeeping? Maybe you had better go find out.
At the back of the main banking hall is a vault secured with a large circular metal door. The door is currently unlocked and propped open; it can be closed, but cannot be locked (intentionally, anyway) from either the inside or the outside. The vault contains row upon row of safety deposit boxes, each locked. Participating characters who are in possession of a key can open their own safety deposit box, but it is not currently possible to force open any safety deposit box that does not belong to them. After August 1, players will be able to use their safety deposit boxes to store their own belongings, and break-ins will become possible with prior player permission and appropriate consequences.
Below sections detail the safety deposit boxes for both choose-your-own-adventure players and randomized players! Please see the randomized matches for this event HERE.
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IT'S TRUE, PEOPLE TAKE THINGS BUT RARELY.
» SAFETY DEPOSIT BOXES — A SELF-GUIDED TOUR
For some of you, getting into your safety deposit box is quite straightforward.
You take your key from the rack behind the teller's counter and make your way back through the building and into the vault. It's cool inside, the temperature well-regulated and the air dry. On the walls are rows upon rows of safety deposit boxes, and it may take you a moment to find the one that corresponds to the number stamped on your key. Does that number mean anything to you? It may, or it may not.
When you find your box, it takes very little effort to open it. A slide of your key, a quick turn, and the safety deposit box's door springs open to reveal the metal container within. You remove the metal box from the wall and bring it over to the table in the center of the room, clearly placed there for this express purpose. Maybe there are others around, or maybe you're alone. Do you remember yet, what it was you put in here? Well, there's no time like the present to check.
You open the safety deposit box to find—something that shouldn't be there. It's yours, that much you're sure of, but you didn't bring it with you to the city. You reach into the box to pick it up, and the surge of memory is immediate, sending your mind back to your strongest memory associated with the item in your hand.
Then the vault door swings shut, trapping you inside with whoever else has the misfortune of sharing the vault with you right now. No matter what force you try, the door won't open again. There doesn't appear to even be a mechanism that unlocks the door from the inside, and from within several feet of metal and stone, no one on the outside will be able to hear you shout. It seems hopeless—how long can anyone last, trapped in a place like this?
Should you turn back to the open safety deposit box, you might notice a slip of paper resting on the bottom. The paper looks aged, like it's been in the box for quite some time, and in printed text it reads: "Nothing is yours. It is to use. It is to share. If you will not share it, you cannot use it."
Maybe it means you should let another hold the item you've retrieved from the box… or maybe it means you should share the weight of memory. Try to interpret the meaning in whatever way you can. But should you decide to unburden yourself, and share with someone else the weight of the item you're holding in your hands, you may find that there's a means of escape after all.
Once you free yourself from the vault, for the next several days you find yourself feeling rather honest, like you may not be able to stop yourself from confessing the truth about the item you now carry…
Characters who wish to participate in the event, but who do not wish to randomize the contents of their safety deposit boxes, can open their safety deposit boxes to find an emotionally significant item belonging to the character—player's choice as to what the item is. The only guidelines are that it should be small enough to fit reasonably in a pocket and may not have any magical or weapon properties. Similarly, players are able to choose the memories associated with the items in the safety deposit boxes. The vault door will remain closed until the characters in the vault explain to each other the significance of their items and the memory associated with them, at which point it the vault mechanisms will disengage and the door will swing open as if it had never closed to begin with. However, for the four days following the event, characters who carry their safety deposit box item on their person will feel oddly compelled to tell other characters about its significance and meaning.
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A CRASH-SITE IS SACRED, WE'RE FAITHFUL.
» SAFETY DEPOSIT BOXES — A JOINT VENTURE
For others of you, the contents of the safety deposit box may be considerably more disconcerting.
You also take your safety deposit box key from the rack behind the bank teller's counter and make your way back through the building and into the vault. It's cool inside, the temperature well-regulated and the air dry. On the walls are rows upon rows of safety deposit boxes, and it may take you a moment to find the one that corresponds to the number stamped on your key. Does that number mean anything to you? It may, or it may not.
When you find your box, it takes very little effort to open it. A slide of your key, a quick turn, and the safety deposit box's door springs open to reveal the metal container within. You remove the metal box from the wall and bring it over to the table in the center of the room, clearly placed there for this express purpose. Maybe there are others around, or maybe you're alone. Do you remember yet, what it was you put in here? Well, there's no time like the present to check.
You open the safety deposit box to find—wait, what is that? It certainly doesn't belong to you. Tucked inside the safety deposit box alongside the item is a slip of paper with another name on it, as well as a cryptic message: "Nothing is yours. It is to use. It is to share. If you will not share it, you cannot use it." The item isn't yours, but it does appear to belong to another resident of the city. Maybe your safety deposit boxes somehow got mixed up? It seems like it would be a good idea to find this person and return their property to them.
Whether you encounter the owner of the item in the vault or elsewhere in the city, when it comes time to hand the item over, two things happen. One—the doors are locked tight, refusing to allow either you or the item's owner out until you both understand what the item is and what it means to the other. To unburden your heart is the only way to free yourself.
And two—as the owner of the item explains its significance, you find yourself oddly captivated, resonating strongly with whatever emotion the item's owner most closely associates with it. You may not be able to see the memory that the other person describes, but you can certainly feel the emotions they felt—after all, the easiest way to unburden oneself is to share the load with another. Isn't that right?
Once you free yourself from your enthralled state, and once you have your own belongings returned to you, for the next several days you find yourself feeling rather honest, like you may not be able to stop yourself from confessing the truth about the item you now carry…
Characters who opted to randomize the contents of their safety deposit box during the plotting post, or who plotted a joint experience with another character, will open their safety deposit boxes to find a small, non-magical but emotionally significant item belonging to another player character in the city. They will need to find the owner of that item and return it to them—this can either be inside the bank vault or in another location within the city. Regardless of where the meeting takes place, the character holding the item will find themselves unable to leave until the character who owns the item explains its significance; as they do, the holder of the item will find themselves swept up in the emotional highs and lows of the memories associated with that item, allowing them to share all of the feelings, regrets, joys, griefs, and rages that the owner experiences in the telling. Additionally, for the four days following the event, characters who carry their safety deposit box item on their person will feel oddly compelled to tell other characters about its significance and meaning.
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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.
This month's event headers come from "The Things" and "The Gatherer," two poems by Brendan Constantine. The text of the paper slip comes from Ursula K. LeGuin's The Dispossessed.
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citylogs2023-07-19 08:45 pm
no subject
But the nice part about these dreams is that it's fairly easy to wake up from them. Because they're not real. Of course they're not. ]
Hm? What?
[ Gottem.
He blinks hard, pushes off from his awkward position on the bench, and stares up at the direction of the voice, staring blankly until it clicks that he is looking at a person. Oh! Miss Althea. He grins. (He also has a red line on his face where the beams of the bench was pressing against it. It's silly. He's a silly, silly man.) ]
What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here, Miss Althea?
no subject
She couldn't help the little tired chuckle of amusement from her perch on the back of the bench, shifting her legs so that he could properly get up without bumping into her, and gives a little wave when he greets her.]
Was walking after getting coffee, saw you sleeping here, figured I'd check on you. Too much sun can be bad for the skin, you know?
[Sure, she doesn't want to sleep, and has a million excuses lined up to try and avoid it as long as possible, but when it comes down to it, she was still worried about him, especially face down like he was. She's had time to think about their last conversation and come to terms with it, and knew he didn't deserve to be treated any differently just because of something that was happening in her home.]
Why are you passed out here?
no subject
[ Very flippant way to phrase what actually happened, but he's not about to make a very new friend aware of his terrible work habits. He stretches, the relaxes against the back of the bench, turning to face Miss Althea properly. ]
The coffee helping, then? You look as though you could use a good flop against the odd park bench as well.
no subject
[She couldn't help an amused look as she spoke, but truthfully, she was familiar with very similar sleep habits. The electricity had always been a blessing and a curse, especially in that department.
At the question about the coffee and the, frankly accurate, observation, she made a face and took a long drink, paused as if checking, then shook her head.]
Not nearly enough. I wish I could sleep, but... too much to think about. [Probably better to say that than to admit to nightmares of Don Quixote's death over and over again. Wouldn't want to worry anyone, right?]
no subject
Quite a bit to think about, yeah.
[ Although it wasn't a sudden stand, actually. The mention of him "passing out", for some reason, froze the smile on his face. If Miss Althea didn't notice that, she'd be within her rights, seeing as how he tends to turn away in these sorts of moments.
He turns back, sighing and grinning, as one might getting into a cold bath. ]
Sorry to trouble you, especially when you've had difficult sleeping yourself. Wish I had some advice for that. Exercise tends to help me.
no subject
What did I do?
[The other comment she waves away though, shaking her head.]
It's fine, I normally just work till I pass out, hence the walking around I was doing. Unless you have advice for recurring nightmares, there's not much to be done.
no subject
You've done nothing, really.
[ Just had eyes, but no one can be faulted for that, and he knows it. He walks off a little for some space, but not far enough to end the conversation. ]
And... I believe you do what I do, with regards to getting a night of sleep. It's a shame when it doesn't work, isn't it? My nightmares don't... tend to be nightly events, though.
[ ... ]
When did yours start? Perhaps there's a cause.
no subject
But she stands from the bench, taking a hesitant step towards Midnight since he keeps stepping away, but keeps most of the distance, in case he doesn't want her nearby. More of a questioning step, gauging his reaction.]
If... you don't want to tell me what's wrong, that's fine, just... tell me if it's my fault or I can fix it, okay? And I'm sorry, for whatever I did.
[She can't help but sigh at his questions about the nightmares though. It would be funny if it weren't so horrible.]
Oh there's absolutely a cause there, but uh... the specifics wasn't what I expected, I guess. I'm not sure if I'm happy or sad that I'm having those nightmares instead of anything else from my past, but I imagine that'll change soon if this city keeps trying to dredge up old memories.
no subject
I can truly say that you've done nothing wrong. And... if you continue to analyze yourself like this, you'll drive yourself up a wall looking for flaws that aren't there. It's not something I'd suggest. Your nightmares, I think, are a much more solveable problem.
[ Midnight turns back and smiles again. This one's a little more faltering. ]
Is it all right if we talk about your nightmares? Or really, anything else. I'd much prefer listening to you talking about something that's captured your interest, or something that gives you confidence. Really.
no subject
But, her feelings on that didn't matter. Clearly he didn't want to talk about it, and even if she couldn't clearly see that with how he was asking, the request was plain as day.
So, though she didn't look exactly happy about it, she nodded.]
Nightmares, interest, or confidence huh? Normally, you'd think there'd be an easy topic in there, with such a wide range, but with how things are in this city, there doesn't feel like there's much for the middle one, is there?
[Said as a sort of joke, hoping to help cheer him up or get his mind off whatever had bothered him. She's worried, but she's trying.]