003 - Memories of a False History

[tabularasa_mods]

Memories of a False History State of the World ▲ Locations ▼ Bestiary
OOC ▲ Comments Please refer to the original Event Announcement for more information or to ask any questions you might have! For the disaster prompt, players are not restricted to the versions given, but they are intended to be the most common. Feel free to borrow ideas from the disaster suggestions thread as well!

▲▼▲▼▲▼▲▼▲
The Sound of All Things Bad
The sound comes without warning. What the sound is cannot quite be made out - it is at once artificial and natural, bestial and mechanical, rumbling and roaring and crunching, shattering and crashing and screaming. Everything about it feels like a threat, warning of danger. The cacophony of noise reaches throughout the entire Void, loud and inescapable, the mangling and clashing of different sounds leaving each individual with a different idea of what it could possibly have been. It sounds different to everyone, each person able to pick out a part of the sound that ties to their own fears.

What if...?

How long the sound lasts would depend on how the individual perceives time. It might last for seconds, or it might last for minutes, but once it stops it does not repeat. Where it came from or what it is does not become the slightest bit clearer, and people are left to only speculate.

Disaster
No one can quite be sure what has prompted them to remember that day. It might have been that noise of approaching doom, or perhaps it is seeing the crumbling ruins of Hammerlocke itself. Once a stray memory surfaces, it is easy enough to look into the details and recall in full the vivid memory of Hammerlocke’s destruction - the ‘truth’ of what caused the mountainside city to crumble into ruins, as so many have wondered since their first appearance. Though the memory is clear and detailed, vivid enough to have been witnessed in person, it is out of place and does not belong, and anyone who can recall the events knows it.

Attempting to discuss the matter will soon reveal that while others recall the event with similar clarity, the details vary from person to person. Over time, their own memory changes and adapts, occasionally changing to something new entirely, yet the original is never completely forgotten. Memory is a strange and fickle thing, so easy to influence and manipulate, that the truth is difficult to find.

While memories differ from person to person, there are three particular tales that recur:

From the Sky

Though the sky above did not change from its paper-like blank white, the land grew darker and darker as though cast in shadow. The source of the shadow was clear: above, slowly descending towards the wings of the castle, was... something. Something immense, yet shrouded in crackling storm clouds.

As it continued to grow closer and closer, something in the clouds began to swell. It grew larger and larger, an electric hum of energy in the air, until with a resounding crack it burst and a great shadowy beast fell to the ground, landing with such force that the resulting shockwave shook the earth and tore through the stone buildings, causing so much of the city to tumble in an instant. It moves, and it screeches, raising its head up as the great storm above continues to swell and crackle.

This would not be the only beast.

(Based upon: Meteor, the Lunar Cry, and the Darkest Day)

The Battlefield

It was never clear why the fighting eventually made its way to this defenseless city, but it came without warning. The chaos was heralded only by explosions as the city walls were blasted through by tanks that had somehow made their way along the treacherous and narrow mountain path that simply was not meant for such heavy machines. The thundering explosions and the collapse of buildings could surely be heard for miles, and people and animals alike were quick to flee.

Though they reached Hammerlocke first, the tanks seemed like nothing compared to the enemy. The enormous shadowy monstrosity that swooped in from the sky seemed to be made from far more advanced technology. Even just the one towering machine, as large as the castle falling to ruins beneath its feet as it lands, proves deadly as it fires upon the approaching tanks, blasting them all to pieces within an instant before turning fire on whichever buildings remain standing.

(Based upon: Tanks, and Reapers)

The Mysterious Storm

There had been no way to predict the change in the weather, never mind how destructive it would prove. One moment, everything had been still and quiet, and the next the city was assailed by howling, violent winds and freezing, glittering snow and ice. Though the city was built of stone and had stood the test of time for centuries, it could not stand against these combined forces. The only shelter was underground, for the furious storm was so powerful it could rip through earth, lift up and fling any object in its path with devastating force, shattering windows and toppling buildings.

Propelled by such force, the ice and hail proved destructive in its own right. As the storm froze everything in its path, the hailstones became like bullets and great chunks of ice became missiles. By the time the winds began to grow calm, there was little left standing.

Something about the storm seemed somehow unnatural, but where it came from was anyone’s guess. Some, however, may have spied a vague figure through the tempest, of unclear appearance but its presence somehow threatening.

(Based upon: Weather, El shortage, and Diamond Dust)

Misplaced Memories
Worries about whatever disaster must have befallen the ruined city of Hammerlocke aside, people quickly become aware that memories of the disaster are not the only invasive, foreign memories. How the other memories come to them seems, on the surface, to be very similar: a connected thought occurs, and upon realizing the memory is not theirs, people are compelled to think more about it until the memory is uncovered in full detail. Unlike the memory of the disaster, however, this one quite clearly belongs to someone else. Someone who is here.

On puzzling this out, some might find they have more than one stray memory sitting in their minds. More importantly, however, is the feeling that something from their own memory is missing, and whatever memory is missing feels like it is something important. It could just be their own phone number, or it could be their name, or the face of whoever is most important to them. It could be something small, it could be something big, but all people know is that it’s something important and it’s gone.

There is no clear, immediate answer as to what people can do about their lost memories. With regards to their new memories, however, the path might seem a tiny bit clearer, for surely it seems a bit unfair that they can see into someone’s past in such a manner without their knowing. Perhaps it’s best to talk to them about it?

Although the lost memory is not always the same as the ones borrowed, taking the memory back to its source and prompting them to discuss and think about it proves a great help - as they talk, the invasive memory leaves, a lost memory is restored, and those who succeed are able to tell others the solution.

While the invasive memory is gone, people can still recall having it, and can still recall the details, but they will no longer remember it from the other’s point of view. Perhaps it might change how they see each other from now on?

back to top

code bases by tricklet

Comments

[theforgottenboy]

[He just listens, not saying anything to confirm or deny what he is. He's right that he isn't human, even if he's like one in some ways. But there isn't a simple answer for what he is, or at least, not a singular answer.]

[Accepted... he feels a pang of- something. Sadness? Regret? It doesn't matter now.]

Is there someone that you want to accept you?

[halloflamer]

What about you?

[Blue doesn't quite feel like answering that question, yet, and it shows in how immediately he seems to clam up. It was getting...a little dangerously close to bringing other issues into this that he didn't feel ready to address at all yet; people, too.]

[...He couldn't admit that while Gramps was here. There was no way he could ever talk about it...]

If you help someone, then you've become important to them, right? Is that why?

[It beats killing people; that's for sure.]

[theforgottenboy]

[He avoided answering... this is why hearing thoughts is easier.]

[What he asks instead, though... there's something there, just the fuzzy edges of it.]

Important... no. When I help people they forget me, or don't see me at all. I don't do it to be important to anyone.

[But he used to, right? At least, when he thought he was "helping." He can't recall that he ever put specific words to the feeling, and yet... he rubs his forehead a little.]

No one forgets me here. But if I helped, that's all that matters. It doesn't matter if anyone knows that I did.

[halloflamer]

[Blue frowns, like he doesn't ...understand. But it had felt so strongly like-- like that thought was connected before, maybe sometime in the past. Like 'helping' people by ending their suffering, giving them the way out, was connected to ending his own suffering.]

[Something like that. He doesn't think he wants to go into it much more; he's already getting his own desperation mixed in with the feelings he's been on the receiving end of.]

Don't you prefer it this way, though? Isn't it better to be recognized for helping people? [Blue leans on the counter, knuckles pressed against it.] To be recognized at all?

[theforgottenboy]

No.

[It's a simple, straightforward answer. If you help someone, then you've become important to them, right? Those words continue to tug, inklings of a memory trying to resurface. Does Blue have one of his memories? Is that why he's asking things like this...?]

It's not wrong for people to want recognition. But I'm not a person. I'm not that real.

[He pauses, taking his time with this. Words can be hard, but he wants Blue to understand why he's different, if it will help somehow.]

I used to think that I was a person. Or that I was a ghost, and I would fade away if I couldn't stay real enough. I didn't want to fade away... I was scared.

[Things are different now, but he still remembers what it was like, feeling so entirely alone and unseen that he regularly questioned his own existence.]

I did things that I shouldn't have, because I thought I had to. I was wrong. I was never real. Solas said I'm a spirit of compassion. Others call me a demon. What I am isn't as important as I used to think it was, so long as I can be someone who helps. If I stop helping, then... I'm not me anymore, or not the me I should be.

[And the reason he's trying so hard to explain himself is...]

If you want to be recognized and accepted, I want to help you. It's not important for me to have that.

[halloflamer]

[For a long moment, Blue is quiet, and just looks back at Cole with a mixture of fright and vulnerability- fright not of Cole himself, but something internal that's been discovered, exposed, and he isn't sure he wanted it to be anymore. But it was too late for that.]

[He doesn't think he wants to be helped. Revealing more would be more painful than continuing to swallow everything down like always... That was what he had decided since a long time ago. Nobody understood- even the select few that knew a lot about his situation growing up didn't fully understand; he pushed them away, too.]

[At the same time, he's starting to understand more, the memory that he's seen from Cole.... and it's that uncomfortable empathy welling up inside of him that's most frightening. Understanding that violent intent more clearly... It was self preservation, wasn't it?]

[Blue isn't really sure how he should feel. It had made him sickened when he first "remembered" it, but the more the memory clings to his own familiar insecurities, the worse it gets.]

I don't think you're any of those bad things, [Blue says slowly, his own understanding mixing with the connotations of those words from the memories. His eyes turn down, his face red with embarrassment and shame that he can't quite assign a reason to, like a child who doesn't want to meet an adult's eyes.] And I don't think your friend probably did, either....

[theforgottenboy]

[It's a kind sentiment, if an unnecessary one. At least, if things were "normal" here, Blue may well have never have known he exists. He doesn't like that people fear him, but he doesn't need assurance that he's not something to fear. He know that he can be, even if some people treat him like a person.]

[It would be nice if Blue didn't fear him, though.]

[And now that's confirmation that Blue has one of his memories, and it doesn't take any guessing to know who he's talking about.]

You remember Rhys.

[There are others he could perhaps have called friends in retrospect, but back then Rhys was the only one that he knew would stay his friend, the only one who wouldn't simply forget him without constant reminders of his existence, like the others inevitably would.]

[Not that he got to keep Rhys' friendship, either.]

What do you remember...?

[halloflamer]

[Blue pauses at length- cagey, hesitant to really have this discussion- but hey, he was the one holding Cole's distorted, terrifying memories, right? He should be the braver one, here.]

[So he sucks in a breath, eyes avoidant, and tries to pick through it- painful and strange as it is.] He's trying... to help you. But you know that's not what's gonna happen. Something... something like, if you get caught, they're gonna punish you, or they're gonna make you t-tame? Tranquil? Something... like that, I think. I don't know what it really means, but it's bad.

[His fists, white-knuckled, rest on his knee.] So you defend yourself. He's your friend, but he doesn't understand what's going to happen... right? It must be that, right? He wouldn't really hurt you, would he?

[Blue doesn't know if he's asking himself, or Cole, at this point.]

[theforgottenboy]

[The edges of the memory become clearer as Blue goes on, until it's been pulled fully back into place. Ah... it's a memory that hurts. But it's one he doesn't think he should forget.]

[He's quiet a moment.]

He knew. He knew bad things could happen, but the things I had done were wrong, and caused trouble for him and the other mages.

[He didn't fully understand at the time, and he didn't know at all that he wasn't even real.]

It was harder to understand, then. But if he'd known what I really was, maybe he would have killed me.

[Would that have solved the problems he'd caused? Probably not, but it would have made sense for him to do, right?]