tabularasa_rp | 003 - Memories of a False History

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!

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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?

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code bases by tricklet

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Catbus-- OH! [ Ann's cheeks turn a bright red at that, as it suddenly floods back to her. Morgana turning into a bus was the strangest thing ever, first time, last time, whatever time. And now, poor Damien has had that lovely experience as well. ] Wow, how confusing... aha, that was Mona... it's... a long story.

[ A long, stupid story. She crosses her left leg over her right and leans back, sighing. ]

I uh... I saw you getting kidnapped. I think that's what was happening? There was a laptop, too... the jerk in the white suit threw it into the lake.

[he waves a hand at her -- they'll get there, because boy, does he have questions, even if he understands some of it, thanks to Ren. first, though, they're going to talk about him, because he wants his memory out of her head, because it's more sensitive, serious, and getting through it first will make the catbus thing seem like a relief, because]

[pick your favorite reason. either way, he lets out a heavy sigh, reaching up to scrub a hand over his face, before:] I think I'd go with 'held hostage.' Not that I'm sure it particularly matters. [he's probably going to end up dead, when he gets back, assuming time hasn't marched on without him, in Chicago] It's the last thing I remember, before I ended up here.

...What lead to that situation? If... that's okay to ask. [ She doesn't really want to pry too deeply and make him relive anything he need not want to, but also... this is just how it goes. She chews on her lip, because if that's the last thing he remembers? It doesn't seem good. She folds her hands in her lap and looks down. ]

I'm sorry that happened to you, Damien-san. That's awful...

[it's definitely not good. it's also hard to frame, to keep himself from looking like the bad guy, and so he's silent for a moment, frowning. at least, if nothing else, he can spin that as being reluctant to talk about his own impending mortality]

[after a beat, though, he sighs, coming up with:] In a nutshell? A friend and I upset some very bad people, and they sent hitmen out to take care of it, us. [that's not untrue. both he and Aiden pissed off Blume, his world's giant, evil cooperation, and the Chicago South Club, the Irish Mob. it's just -- not that simple. Damien's more worried about Aiden than Blume's fixer, to be honest]

I thought I'd found a way of getting us out of it, but ... [he shakes his head faintly] Best laid plans and all that.

[ What did you do? is definitely the next question that pops into her mind, but she doesn't ask that. Won't ask that, because that's not her business in the slightest and it's way too personal. If he and someone else upset some people that much... she looks down again. ]

I'm sorry, that's awful. I get it... I'm so sorry about that. [ Hitmen... maybe being here isn't such a bad thing for some people after all. The alternative could be far worse, she thinks. That guy in the white suit sure seemed to mean business. ]

[he hums, falling silent for a moment, studying her, and then, wryly:] You're curious to know what we did that got us into so much trouble, aren't you? [he's not stupid. he would be, if their positions were reversed, and he's not nearly as tactful as Ann, unless it serves him in some way]

[ Ah, jeez. Caught. Ann's cheeks turn a little pink, and she laughs nervously. ] Yeah, it'd be a lie to say otherwise! I don't want to pry, though, you don't have to tell me. I'm just sorry that you had to get caught up in all of that to begin with.

[the laugh earns her a brief, humorless smile, and then he shakes his head] You might have to. [a beat] From what I've seen, so far, the memories only go away if you talk about them.

[and in a little more depth than just a blanket apology, moving on]

[that in mind and on a breath out, he tells her:] That friend I mentioned? We saw something my world's big, evil mega-cooperation didn't appreciate us seeing. [again, that's not a lie, exactly. he mastered the art of half-truths and lies of omission long before he came here]

Yeah... yeah, you're right. Still, I'm so sorry to pry.

[ Because really, if it were up to her, she wouldn't. She'd let him have his privacy... he doesn't deserve to have to spill the beans to her if he doesn't want to. Not that they can do anything about it, though. ]

Oh jeez... so, they came after you, then? What about your friend...?

That's who we're waiting on. [a beat, a wry smile] I'm sure he'll be fine, though. He always did have a knack for surviving impossible odds.

[which is damn annoying. especially when he was the impossible odds Aiden was dealing with, not half an hour ago, when he left home. Ann doesn't need to know that, though]

Still, I'm really sorry... maybe he'll end up here?

[ Because, yeah, being here, despite everything, seems a whole lot better than the alternative that she knows may be waiting for Damien and Aiden, honestly. ]

With any luck.

[with any luck, death will be a thing, by the time Aiden actually shows up, and he can push him off a fucking cliff. with any luck, it won't be and he can do it repeated and take notes on how it actually affects Aiden. with any luck -- well, the list goes on, but he's not about to clarify. he just lets the half-truth hang there for a moment, then, before letting out a heavy sigh]

Does it feel any less like yours, now? [the memory? can they move on, now, before he ends up caught in a lie, somewhere?]

003 - Memories of a False History

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