MISSION 004 (part 1)

[etrayamods]

WHO: Everyone!
WHEN: July 19th-July 27th.
WHERE: Moorecroft Village
WHAT: Enjoy life in your new suburban neighborhood!
NOTES\WARNINGS: Potential death.

⏵ welcome home ⏴ Welcome to Moorecroft Village, where the sun casts a gentle glow through soft white clouds. Pavement paths wind around the village, adorned with wildflowers in every hue. Birds sing a soothing melody, while a few content cats lounge in sunspots or on benches along the streets. Cars hum by, ferrying residents to work, the store, or back home after a busy day. It looks almost perfect. The ideal little village, occupied by individuals from all over. Orcs, elves, faeries, werewolves, vampires, and dhampirs coexist harmoniously, each contributing to their quaint little town. Despite their varied backgrounds, they appear to embrace this place as their own. They take their baby carriages out during the day for a stroll, chatting with friends and neighbors about current happenings, discussing their most recent mission (a ‘game’ of Whodunit, in which one of theirs, Theo, was tasked with killing one of their own each day and they all had to figure out who had killed them before they could come back to life) and the difficulties therein, new job assignments, weird things the teens in their houses are getting up to... generic, neighborly conversations. The village is full of life. There are numerous facilities to wander and things to do! The library houses a vast collection of books spanning history from countless other worlds and whimsical children's tales. Teens gather at the ice skating rink, while the movie theater screens films spanning generations. An aquarium full of wonders: glowing rainbow fish, miniature great white sharks, a colorful octopus with patterns running over it that almost look like ivy, and numerous others. In the daytime, everyone can explore clothing stores, indulge in gourmet cakes from the grocers, and partake in leisurely pursuits without financial concerns; just like on Etraya, money does not exist here. ⏵ help wanted ⏴ Moorecroft surpasses Etraya in its development, offering attractions and activities to engage its inhabitants throughout the day. But with these advancements come additional responsibilities. By day, at least one adult from every household is expected to fulfill their shifts at 'day jobs', lasting anywhere from four to eight hours. Meanwhile, the youth are expected to go to school, absorbing knowledge in various disciplines. Each job duty requires different skillsets, but whether or not those required skillsets are matched to those who are expected to work them... well. They’ll have plenty of time for training, won’t they? Or perhaps they’ll get dropped right into their job and be expected to figure it out all on their own. For the younger residents, education is structured into two main institutions: "Sandalwood Lower" for those twelve and under, and "Maplewood Upper" for older students. These schools offer a broad curriculum encompassing Language Arts, Mathematics, Science, Physical Education, Technology, Fine Arts, and a diverse array of Foreign Languages. Electives range widely, from specific sports to Survival Training, Creative Writing, Journalism, and Sociology. At lunchtime, the school cafeteria presents an array of choices. Options range from standard fare like school pizza to other offerings such as vampire's blood, brains, and hearts—just in case an unexpected guest should drop in. After all, one never knows who might show up in Moorecroft. ⏵ honey do's ⏴ But life extends beyond work and school. A structured routine of what is expected of each household is kept on digital calendars, and installed on the wall in the kitchen of each house. These calendars update daily with smaller tasks, and weekly with larger ones, detailing what is expected of those residing within its walls. Typical tasks include simple activities such as: Take the child(ren) for a walk outdoors. Visit the local park. Bake a pie for the neighbors. Tell your spouse(s) how important they are to you. Share a secret. Shop with your child(ren). Mow the lawn. Don’t forget to attend your child’s school’s PTA meeting! Help with homework. Take family photos. Go on a date. More complex tasks are found under weekly checklists, and may involve: Host a neighborhood barbeque competition. Volunteer at the hospital. Teach your child a sport. Start a soccer league. Create a garage band. Get a part time job. Join a club. Eos will check off each task as it is completed. At the bottom of each calendar, a tally records the completion of tasks, providing a visual measure of productivity and community involvement. ⏵ night watch ⏴ As the sun lowers over the horizon, everything shifts. Every long-term resident understands the consequences of curfew and the threats within. They retreat to their homes, urging those unfamiliar to them who may not understand the rules just yet that they, too, need to return indoors for the night. Within the confines of their houses, life continues under a fragile veil of normalcy. A peek into some of the homes of long-term residents will find them playing board games with their family units, completing homework or work assignments they were unable to finish during the day, watching a few family-friendly shows on their couches, or enjoying a late dinner. Eventually, they’ll return to their beds and wait for the sound of their alarms. In Moorecroft, no friendly companion bots roam the streets during the day. In their place, highly advanced robots emerge to enforce curfew once the time comes. They silently make their way through the streets, sweeping away anything that isn’t part of Eos’ design: trash left out on the street, bugs left by suspicious men wearing cowls that have ears on them, graffiti, new decor that Eos decides she doesn’t like. No winds shake the trees, there are no cars on the road, but noises can be heard coming from outside that don't sound... normal by any means. Croaks, whispers, scratches against doors and walls alike. Those who defy curfew will be asked, once, to return to their homes. If they opt not to listen, they are met with force: physically restrained, subdued, and dragged back to their homes. If they decide to fight, the bots are not above killing them and dropping their limp bodies just inside the front door of their houses. They will revive after 48 hours but not without cost. Each return carries an absence—a missing memory, a lost skill, or a fragment of their very essence, stolen away in the process of their revival. Even those who manage to evade capture will awaken in their beds with no recollection of their death or what they may have witnessed before dying. They will instead have a vague feeling that something horrifying happened. ⏵ NOTES ⏴ Daily and weekly tasks can be chosen by players! We won't be listing these out for each household, but relying on players to choose what's most fun for them to play with within their households. As noted on Mission Plotting, we're open to one group successfully staying out past curfew, but would like to keep this to one thread. We have a separate log for NPC interactions for this mission! For any questions relating to the contents of this log, mod queries thread on the initial plotting post to assist us in keeping all mission-related information in one place. All other questions can be directed to the FAQ. ⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Comments

after night watch

[doctopoda]

[Otto was decidedly not awake, but the actuators don't really have a sleep mode. They're the ones that eventually wake him up, half-dragging him out of bed as they pull towards the window to view the potential threat. That's all this is to them - once Peter's identified, especially once they see he's somewhat incapacitated, they dismiss the whole thing.

But of course, that means it's time for Otto to drag them downstairs and get the door.]

What in the world happened to you?

[He steps aside immediately - get in here!]

[keepitgoing]

Hey, Dr. Octavius! Sorry to interrupt your eight hours.

[Agh, the actuators are such a jumpscare to a Spider-Man.

But he'll get used to them being cooler than they used to be!

Looking a little sheepish, Peter limps into the living room and yanks the mask off his face, revealing the scrapes and bruises of a guy who has definitely been duking it out with something out there in the dark.]

The bots that patrol outside — pretty much go into murder-mode if you don't comply the first time they take you home. [Breathlessly, he adds:] I would not mess with those guys; never seen robots armed with so many ways to kill someone.

[doctopoda]

Nonsense. Come sit down.

[Otto has no real idea if Peter knew he was living here, or if it was happenstance, but either way he's going to take care of this as much as he can. He's got a good sense of how quickly his universe's Peter could heal, but he's less sure of this one.]

What were you doing out there? Just checking it out?

[keepitgoing]

[Honestly, it's just a miracle he ran into a familiar face. He was certainly not aiming for a particular window or door — this could have just been him getting shot at or stabbed even more than usual. He sits down with a wince, though fortunately, it looks like superficial wounds that won't require urgent medical care.

Not that urgent medical care works the same for Spider-Man. It'll all be gone in a day or two.]

Wanted to see just how extreme the patrol was here. And yeah, turns out they don't mind trying to kill anyone who doesn't follow curfew. Their methods of unaliving people are super varied, too.

[doctopoda]

"Unaliving?"

[What is that, some weird slang?

Otto tsks to himself. He knows this is nothing for Spider-Man, and that it would be ridiculous to fuss, but it just feels wrong not to do anything. There was an old first-aid kit in one of the cabinets when he got here, and he fishes it out and lets an actuator go place it on the table while he fetches a drink.]

That's ridiculous, but I can't say I'm surprised. It all felt too dystopian. Were many others out there?

[His inclination is to let it lie. That's what he'd have done before; concerned or not, he's not a cop, or a fighter. Except...that's not exactly the case anymore, is it...? He may still not have much desire or temperament for it, but he can't deny that he's able.]

[keepitgoing]

Uh — killing. Is what it means. Like on Tik T... nevermind that.

[Deeply sorry for this gen z nightmare, Otto.]

That's the crazy thing: no matter how many I put down, another one would just take its place. It's like... there really isn't any limit to how many get deployed to deal with you. [He pulls off one of his gloves, revealing a cut that definitely would need stitches. Honestly, Peter is pretty sure he could go without them, but it would definitely take 'longer' to heal than his usual affair.] You got any antiseptic, Dr. Octavius?

[doctopoda]

They've certainly got resources...it was just like that with the clowns, too.

[Not that he thinks the two are particularly linked; this place just seems to enjoy throwing endless waves of enemies at you.

In response to the question, Otto returns, setting the glass of water down in front of Peter so that he can go through the first aid kit. Antiseptic, gauze, bandages. It's fairly well-stocked; Otto's certainly made do with worse in the past.]

Of course. Let me. [Not easy to treat a cut on your own hand, after all, unless you're him. He'll turn one of the chairs sideways so that he can sit as well, though it seems like the actuators have to help him do so.] You heal quickly, don't you? I know my world's Spider-Man did.

[keepitgoing]

Man, I'd really love to know what the deal is with those clowns...

[It's a passing thought, though he supposes it won't matter until or unless he makes another visit to the station. He offers his arm out with muttered, somewhat sheepish thanks, watching the injury with some casual indifference. It's weird how used to getting hurt you get, when you're a superhero.]

It depends on how bad it is, but yeah, pretty much. This should be gone completely in a day, maybe a day and a half. I've had my fair share of hiding these at school until they'd go away — or, like, you'd have to keep a band-aid on for appearances, if they knew you cut your face. Stuff like that.

[It still totally hurts to get stitches, though.

He's gonna have to tense up and get in the zone.]

[doctopoda]

[Otto looks it over without much more affect than Peter. He doesn't have anywhere near the history, but a few hours in the hospital was nowhere near enough to fully treat any of his injuries. He had to do what he could for them on his own. The electrical burns covered most of his back, and after seeing so much of them, a simple cut just doesn't look so bad anymore.

Stitches are something he's only done to himself once or twice. He cleans his hands with the little bottle of sanitizer from the kit. A claw unpacks some other things as he does.]

There's some painkillers. Just over-the-counter. [But that's always better than nothing. Though...] ...do you still metabolize normally?

[keepitgoing]

So far, my metabolism's pretty much normal, yeah. Totally thought about testing it on alcohol, but — you know. I'm only 18, so that's gonna have to wait.

[The vigilante superhero is nervous to drink under 21? What a big damn nerd.

He pops the painkillers without any delay.]

Honestly, I've had these powers for, like, four years now, and I still get surprised by something they do.

[doctopoda]

[Otto starts in on tending the wound, frowning down at it.]

...did you start doing this at fourteen?

[SURELY not? Surely he waited at least a year or two first? Doing the math, Otto figures his own universe's Spider-Man must have been in high school at the beginning, or maybe just recently out of it, but he certainly wasn't that young.]

1/2

[keepitgoing]

[keepitgoing]

... What better time to start using your spider powers for good, than immediately after you get them?

[The answer is yes. Yes he did start this at fourteen. The math maths.]

[doctopoda]

When you're an adult?

[Though this is a losing argument and he knows it. Not just because the whole thing's already over and done with either.]

[keepitgoing]

[He looks properly sheepish about it, now.]

That's a long time to wait; there's way too many people who could've used help between freshmen and senior year.

I'm pretty sure your Peter started in high school, too.

[All Peter Parkers start early and adds to the need for therapy later in life!]

[doctopoda]

...yes, I think he must have. But he wasn't that young.

[That math wouldn't math; Spider-Man's only been around for a few years by Otto's reckoning. It's still not really right for a high school senior to be out there doing those things, of course. But the kid's right - what else were any of them going to do?]

I understand what you mean, though. At least you had...other super-powered people in your world, to help you out?

[There was Strange, obviously, and Otto was around that world long enough to at least pick up on the fact that there were several others out there somewhere. Surely they'd step in?]

[keepitgoing]

[... Now is probably not the time to mention he'd been flown to Germany to participate in a superhero slapfight. It's not one of Tony's brightest moments for sure.]

I mean, yeah! Kinda. Tony Stark always gave me the technology I couldn't afford, especially if I damaged my suit. The Avengers weren't really there for the little hero things, because they handled the really big stuff. My world almost ended a few times, and they helped stop that. I even got to help stop aliens from wiping out humanity once. Well, I died for a few years with half of all life in the universe, but they brought us all back, so I was able to help them in the last big fight.

[doctopoda]

[.......what the fuck

Otto just sort of stares at Peter for most of that litany. Sure, he'd known already that things were a bit stranger in the kid's world than his, but that...]

That...is a lot. [...] You died?

[keepitgoing]

Well. Yeah! Yeah, a lot of us did. Half the living population of the universe died.

[Just take it in, Otto. The stakes in Peter's universe are ridiculous.]

This big purple jerk-off basically had an all-powerful glove with all-powerful magic stones, and he used it to enact some stupid plan to try and balance all life. Which apparently meant destroying half of it.

[So, yeah. Died, but got better.]

[doctopoda]

......alright.

[You know what? Does he really need to ask more questions about that? Right now, at three in the morning? Otto decides he does not.]

Well. Glad to hear you got better? Maybe it's for the best we don't have more super...things where I'm from.