etrayalogs | MISSION 004 (part 1)

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⏴

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ If Krouse hadn't already crossed a line, and he was pretty sure he had, saying anything else about Fabian's mom would definitely be going too far. It wasn't his business. It wasn't his problem.

The counters were decent, the floor cleared of trash. Krouse ties off the significantly less full bag he'd finished things off with and gestures around the already much less devastated looking kitchen, improved significantly by the removal of the obvious garbage. ]

Voila. [ He says, expansively. ] I told you it wasn't that bad. Want to hit the living room next? Bring Hal Jr with us.

[ He paused, reconsidering the reference. ]

That's an AI from a movie back home. Hal. So, Hal Jr.

[ He'll just leave out the 'murderous' part while he ushers Fabian and Hal Jr towards the living room, the box of garbage bags in hand. ]

Cute kid, by the way. [ The baby was...baby-shaped. They were all pretty much baby-shaped. That meant cute in a sort of undefined way. ] And, you know, man - you should have someone do what's right for you, too.

[ Shit. Krouse snaps out another garbage bag, crouching to start picking up trash from around the coffee table. ]

Not that you don't know that. Just - forget it.

[ Fabian follows Krouse without protest. The milk is still heating up anyway, so standing around and staring at it isn't really going to make a difference - he can grab it later. Especially when he doesn't just want Krouse to go around and clean his house all by himself while Fabian sits in the kitchen. Krouse isn't his maid.

Not to mention when Krouse is-- well, he's saying some stuff.

Stuff Fabian doesn't really know how to process, but stuff all the same. ]

What do you mean? [ He says once Krouse cuts himself off, a frown on Fabian's face. He looks kind of confused, even as he's trying to gently rock the baby a little. It does make the baby more quiet, even if he isn't entirely silent just yet. ]

Dude, you are already doing more for me than anyone should right now.

[ Isn't that someone doing what's right for him? More than it, in fact. ]

I should have been handling all this by myself.

[ The bag Krouse is picking up crinkles in his hand as his fingers tighten on it. He sieves an exhale out through his nose and stuffs it into the garbage bag. ]

No, you shouldn't have.

[ He doesn't look up from what he's doing. He just keeps picking up trash. Not like a maid, but like a - neighbour. That's what they are, in this place, even if their houses aren't side by side. People stuck in the same situation. ]

You didn't exactly ask to end up a single dad with a job. And a whole fucking house to keep up? That's not something you wake up and just have handled.

[ Even if it's fake, and it doesn't matter. It matters to Fabian, apparently. And judging by his own tone, it matters to Krouse, because here he still is, picking up garbage. ]

And it's not a big deal, all right? Christ. [ A beat. ] That's, uh - famous dead guy. Where I'm from. And even that guy would think you don't need to nail yourself to a goddamn cross like this, man.

[ Thanks for the very succinct Christianity explanation, Krouse.

Even if it's not helping Fabian's confusion much. Sure, it at least isn't making it worse by adding yet another confusing element to all of this, but it isn't really helping Fabian's entire confusion about-- the rest of this. The way Krouse helps him so easily. The way he doesn't seem to think Fabian is some sort of huge loser or failure for not having all of this covered.

He stares at Krouse and his trashbag like it's something Fabian has never seen before in his life. Like the other turned purple on the spot. ]

Wouldn't-- [ He starts, then stops.

It feels dumb. It feels so dumb. This isn't just something you ask your random bro friend, but on the other hand, how else is Fabian supposed to get to the bottom of this? He's not a detective like Riz. ]

Wouldn't your parents expect you to have it handled?

[ Krouse snorts. He can't help it. It's just that the idea of his mom thinking Krouse could handle anything like this is so absurd that for a second, he can forget anything else that comes up when he thinks about her. ]

No. Jesus.

[ He shakes his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the back of his wrist thanks to the gloves he's wearing being greasy enough he doesn't want them smeared all over his face. ]

First name of the aforementioned Christ. And no, she would not expect me to have this handled. When we did egg babies for sex ed class she went out and bought a carton of back up eggs to forge replacements.

She'd - [ his breath catches, just for a second, and he's fine ] - she'd probably be doing this for me. Maybe kidnapping a replacement cyberbaby. Just in case.

[ ... ]

Oh.

[ Fabian is definitely underplaying his surprise - or trying to, anyway, since he doesn't really manage to say that 'oh' without looking real awkward about it. It's a weird idea, Krouse's mother doing anything like that. Sure, his own mother became a little more active again after his father's death, but Fabian still can't imagine his mother doing this. Cleaning up.

.. looking after a baby.

The fact that it feels like such a weird thought sits uneasily in the pit of his stomach as he looks at the other guy, trying to figure out what to say here. Willing himself to force out something, just so he doesn't seem pathetic. ]

I guess your mother is pretty cool for kidnapping babies for you. [ Nailed it.

Truly nailed it. ]

Yeah. Yeah, she is.

[ He even actually laughs, shaking his head again to clear it, which only goes so far. It's too easy to picture her, and too hard. He thinks he has the impression of her down, the general outline of her, but the details - the details aren't as crisp as he wants them to be when he tries to pin them down. ]

I guess we have something in common, huh? Felonious parents. Real sons of rapscallions, we are.

[ He's not sure he's breaking the tension in the right direction, but fuck it, he has to do something to keep this garbage clean up from being completely garbage. 'Rapscallions' feels like a thing that's nautical and nefarious. ]

[ At least it does put a small smile on Fabian's lips.

It's not quite the same as the usual though. Fabian's smiles tend to be more like grins, broad and loud, but this smile is definitely nowhere near close to that. It's more just that he's appreciating the attempt he can recognize on Krouse's end right now more so than that it makes Fabian instantly feel better. ]

Well, mama wasn't like that. [ ... ] Not really, anyway.

[ Not that he's fully sure how he would describe his mother to Krouse. It honestly feels easier to talk to him about his father, given that Fabian spent years of his life doing practically nothing else but talk about him.

He finally moves, starting to pick up some of the trash himself to put it into the garbage bag the other guy is holding. The movement is a little slow, a little hesitant, but he's making an effort. ]

Papa always taught me to grab whatever I wanted, though. [ .. theft, Fabian.

That sort of thing is called theft. Yet he's saying it so casually. Real sons of rapscallions, indeed.. ]

Not not really much about.. this stuff. [ Cleaning. ] I suppose it is since we always had Cathilda to take care of it.

MISSION 004 (part 1)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject