quietplacememes | TDM #001

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test drive meme!

TDM #001

TEST DRIVE MEME
You wake, standing. A thick, muddy red dust coats your skin and clothes - it sticks to your tongue and blocks your vision. Inhale and it chokes you, exhale and your breath puffs out in front of your face in a transparent maroon cloud. It tastes of copper, tangy and harsh. Movement is difficult, every limb tingles and aches. Look to your left, your right. Evenly spaced in each direction stands another person indistinguishable in every way from the next. You're disoriented and lethargic, unable to grasp onto a single thought. A pinprick of light blooms ahead and grows steadily larger; a door has opened.

Hands grip your wrists, push at the small of your back and guide you out of the darkness into a room with four walls and a thin, sagging ceiling. The plaster is peeling, the air is musty, and the floor is slick. White plastic piping juts up from the center and curves into multiple spouts, clean water flowing in uneven streams. Those hands pull your clothes off and clear the dust from your body, redress you in handsewn jumpsuits.

A finger is pressed to your lips. Kind eyes meet your own and a single word is whispered - hush.

Led out of the room in a line, you’re taken down a short hallway and into another, much larger room. There’s a woman waiting for you there, a child hugging her leg, and a cloth bag in her hands. She reaches in and pulls out a device, passes one to each of you. Once finished, she begins to move both hands in graceful gestures, a language. One of the people who helped you lifts their device and the screen lights up, tracks the woman’s hands. Letters appear on the screen and you understand the device’s purpose. She tells you what she knows and it’s not much.

This world is haunted. Noise attracts them, so it is not allowed. Communication is through body language, soundless writing, and the device. She tells you that your feet must be light and your mouth never used. There is a community outside these doors, where you can survive together, but only if you agree to one thing: complete and total silence. You'll have time to talk it over. Acceptance allows you to journey outside. The ground is marked in pathways of sand, lining the paths to each building and everywhere in between. You notice that the locals hold their devices always, aloft and glance to it often. It will not vibrate or make a sound to signal a message.

Notices appear. Rules. Guidelines. Feet on the sand and never anywhere else. To open a door you brush your fingers along the hinges - oiled and you may enter. If not, take the brush from the can sitting nearby and coat the metal with the dark liquid. You're to settle into your new home.

Don't say a word.
Content Warnings: creepy song - play me though, forced silence
Themes: Horror, room resets

As the sun begins to set on the first day, the natives' behavior changes. It's not subtle and it comes fast. Hinges are oiled and doors are shut. Children are packed up, windows closed, and your phone lights up with a message, a reminder. A warning.

Hush little baby, don't say a word, Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don't sing, Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring turns brass, Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass. And if that looking glass gets broke, Mama's gonna buy you a winter cloak. And if that winter cloak's too cold, Mama's gonna buy you a pile of gold. And if that gold was stolen, too, Mama's gonna go to jail for you. So hush little baby, don't say a word, Mama's gonna kill the whole damn world for you.

By the time the scrolling message has stopped, a stillness accompanies the silence. The community has locked itself away and natives have prodded and pushed to get you into your assigned home. Another message - one hour. Hands are pressed to young children's mouths. Any native close by rest their finger over their lips and implore you to be silent. The air, almost, seems to come alive around you. Their fear is palpable, heady, and thick. They don't move. If your character makes a sound, even the slightest, a native will subdue them. If they attempt to venture outside, they will be stopped. Once the hour is over, you can breathe again. Natives go about their nightly routine and if asked, will not tell you what it is they're so afraid of.

Quiet, Quiet.
Content Warnings: Danger, being chased, no way out without action
Themes: Survival, exploration, horror

There is always work to be done in Reims. The first part of each day is spent completely individual job tasks and the second half is dedicated to Sound Maintenance, which is checking the community for sound issues and repairing them. Free time comes in the afternoon and can be spent exploring, working, mingling, and more. A few natives ask for volunteers to head towards the forest lining the Seine to gather edible plant-life and hunt. It's rare for the natives to do so but the appearance of so many new arrivals has put a dent in food stores. You follow the sandpaths through the city, pause by the Seine for a break, and then head into the woods.

Without any notice, the light begins to dim as if the sun is setting hours earlier than it's supposed to. The natives panic and they run, never straying from the sandpaths but they don't wait for you. They're fast and they know the area better and eventually -

You're walking in the woods, there's only one other person around, and your phone is dead. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot them, about thirty feet back. A dark shape, a silhouette. It steps towards you. You step back. It gasps softly but the sound is loud, deafening when you've accustomed yourself to no noise. Teeth gleam in a wide set smile and it gasps again, softly. And again. Smiles wider. It's not advancing to hurt you, it's making sound nearby on purpose. It's blocking your path back out of the forest. You and the person beside you can head deeper into the darkness or take action. Which will it be?

OOC
From your mods:

The threads on this meme can be used as game canon. Feel free to thread out arrival style meetings as well! If you have questions, pp the mod account, use the faq or comment below. Have fun!

NAVIGATION

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[Aizawa would object to the word "tossed." He'd agree to the terms of this place, whether he liked it or not, because the current situation required his freedom of movement. The things he truly wanted to do- get around, assess the situation, find a way back- weren't going to require verbal communication anyways. It would be more efficient but it was by no means necessary. So, rather than being tossed, Aizawa would say he was escorted to the empty residence.]

[correction: not empty]

[He looks sort of bewildered as the door is slowly, silently closed behind him, the faintest bump of wood against wood sounding as pointed as a gunshot in the silence. Someone uncooperative, huh.]

[He takes a few steps forward, glancing at the state of his current roommate, but not making a damn movement to actually touch his bonds. Instead he's just staring, which could be a little unsettling coming from a six-foot tall man who looks like he hasn't ever heard of a comb or a proper bedtime. As much as his appearance seems wild, he's as subdued and silent as any of the natives. He looks tired, more than anything.]

[Victor's expression is more relieved than anxious, when he's joined by Aizawa. He's not the type to fear other people, maybe foolishly so. When his look of pity does nothing but get him a once over, he hangs his head with an exaggerated motion, dramatically disappointed by the lack of help. Oh well, he bounces his shoulders in a sad kind of silent laugh, before going about his own escape. Victor can get himself out of some hastily tied binds, audience or otherwise! He shimmies his arms and twists his wrists against the cloth and it'll be loosening up eventually, enough that he can get his fingers on the knot to help himself free.

Well, if he's left completely to his own devices.]

[The exaggerated motions are only met with a sort of exhausted disdain. At least, in a place like this, those exaggerated gestures wouldn't be matched with some irritatingly loud and cheery voice. Maybe he should less thank the place and more the scarf that was keeping his mouth closed. It'd probably be the first thing to get yanked off once his hands were free.]

[... imagining that circumstance while they're stuck here together isn't exactly thrilling.]

[So, carefully, he kneels down by the fidgeting Victor and sets to work on his binds.]

[Making sure they're nice and tight, that is. It's a pain to tie these sort of restraints with cloth but 1) he's a professional and 2) he understands the point wasn't to cause any of them pain. Pain only lead to more noisiness, after all. So all of Victor's hard work of loosening them up is reset by a guy who doesn't look the least bit sorry about it.]

Mmff!! [he's actually more noisy to be restrained again, making a sound that's muffled by the scarf, but still loud compared to the relative silence. Not to mention a petulant kicking of his feet on the floor, though Victor is purposefully doing that softly. The gesture of making a fuss. Have a heart! He doesn't want to be stuck like this!!]

[That sound seems to trigger sound in response, an exasperated breath outward. He pauses, immediately, glancing over his shoulder like he's straining his ears for any response to the sound his body unwittingly made. It's a little hard to hear with-]

[To try and silence the petulant, soft kicking, he presses down on Victor's knee with his own. It's not enough pressure to be seen as an actual violent act, just keep quiet and let him listen for a second!]

[Because even though his senses don't tell him anything, there's an odd sense of dread at the noise. There shouldn't be. They'd hardly spent any time here, so the dread couldn't be internally conditioned. Something must be causing it and he had no idea what and no one would speak of it and maybe this idiot was too dense to feel it. There's no movement at the windows, no sound made from outside the door, just an unsettling feeling to the whole thing.]

[Victor might have started actually kicking with force, but that feeling causes just the opposite. He goes tense and still, eyes looking first to the man before seeing the look on his face, realizing the sense of dread is mutual. There really is something in the air of this place. An instinctual prickle of fear that shivers right down the spine, warning of danger.

He's dead silent and still as he could be. At least so many years of athletic training means Victor's breath control is fantastic. He can be utterly panicked and not hyperventilate over it, something he very much senses would only make the feeling around them worse.]

Edited 2018-01-08 00:07 (UTC)

[After a few moments of utter silence, the feeling fades for no discernible reason. Or, rather, the only discernible reason was that they shut up. The tension that was unconsciously building in his shoulders fades.]

[Carefully, he looks back at the tied-up man. He releases the pressure on his knee, shifting to pull out the device he'd been given, a functionally identical to the one set out of Victor's range. A question is displayed on the screen.]

Will you be quiet?

[It's technically similar to the question he'd had to answer at the start of this whole endeavor. Just more localized, can he trust him right here and now to keep his mouth shut?]

[There's a worry that sinks into Victor's bones as the dread starts to fade around them. Is there actually less danger or are they just getting used to the feeling? It's impossible to really know, but Victor can't help but relax with it. His legs are sunk down flat on the floor, shoulders slack to mirror to other man's exhaustion. He's already tired of this all, too. He squints to lean in and read the screen, before looking to Aizawa and giving at least five short, fast head nods of yes. Other than that burst of enthusiasm, Victor is calm. A sigh to let out the tension, grab a bit of relief, is so tempting. Judging by how even just that brought about such a frightening presence to the room, he'll restrain himself. With the newly instilled sense of terror, he's going to behave much better!]

[Just one nod would have done perfectly fine. Not that he can really say that, just giving a disinterested sort of look.]

[The terror's done it's job on both of them, though, quieting Victor and making Aizawa a bit more inclined to cooperate. He sets down the device and sets about undoing the bonds with all the diligence he put into tightening them. He even brushes his calloused hands against the others wrist to check for any friction marks once the cloth is free. There.]

[He pulls back a bit, completely prepared to move in again if the other is not appropriately silent. Still, though, there. Free.]

[there's a brief tensing of his arms when the ties are being fussed with again, something creepy about being physically touched after sitting in fear. He'll ease up when he's set free, arms wrapping forward to carefully and silently take the scarf from his mouth, slowly catching up his shortness of breath. Easy, steady, he's calm. A short rub of his own hands over his wrists and he'll look to Aizawa with a wilted, if grateful expression.

Spotting the device in the man's hands once more, he remembers the one he had been given, looking over to it. He shifts and moves to get it, catching it with his fingers and holding onto it tightly, suddenly afraid of something simple as letting it slip away and clatter to the floor. Having not seen it yet, he'll click at it and find the keyboard, clicking out a message and turning it to the man to show, since he wasn't sure if he even could message him through the machine.]

Thanks, sheesh, do you know what's going on?

[The communicator is surprisingly easy to use. It's not as convenient as a cell phone but at some point in editing out functions that might make noise, they were left with this. The messaging function could be discovered later, as it wasn't horribly inconvenient to type his message then turn the thing around.]

[He's not going to, like, type out pointless filler words like "sheesh," though. Why the hell would he.]

Not any more than you do, if you were smart enough to ask questions.

[Although he holds it there a while longer as if to ask without asking: did you.]

I yelled half a curse before being gagged and thrown in here

what's it like outside?

[He doesn't add anything in reaction to that first part. The slight narrowing of eyes says "idiot" better than words ever could. Then again, he shouldn't expect more from a civilian in this situation.]

[But, right, his best assessment of the outside.]

Strange. The architecture and climate don't match Japan. Walkways have been coated with sand to reduce the sounds of footsteps. There don't appear to be functional power lines.

They've certainly been isolated from the world.

You were in Japan, before? I was in Russia.

[that's a long distance for them both to wake up in the same place, around the same time. Wherever this was, it felt less like a place in the real world and more like a nightmare, but that's quickly becoming a cliche observation.]

[He nods in response, realizing the same thing. If he had to guess, it was probably closer to Russia than Japan, but that was fairly easy when one country was an isolated island while the other took up most of a continent's landmass.]

[As he's typing the response, he realizes that whatever language he was typing in- someone who was Russian could read it. Curious, he types two sentences into the communicator:]

「Can you understand this? and,」

"Can you understand this?"

[One was written consciously with Japanese, the other consciously with English]

Which is easier? [Or do they look the same, processed through the screen...]

They read the same. I'm fluent in Russian, French, and English... but when I read off the screen I can't really tell what it is, but I still get it

[even more mysterious and unsettling. It's like his brain just understands regardless of what language he thinks about. If he types in Russian, but rereads in English, it reads like English... how could that even be?]

[So, the devices were capable of crossing language barriers, somehow. He drags his thumb along the side of the device, considering it a little more carefully. Translation software? That sort of thing was still horribly buggy and yet they hadn't had too many misunderstandings. That he was aware of.]

We can't talk but they clearly still want us to be able to communicate.

[And who "they" were was a major question. The people here didn't seem capable of kidnapping. Considering they barely had power, only for the essentials, it seemed strange for the devices to exist as a priority at all. Was it their work, or some outside force...]

didn't save me from being manhandled

[it should now, maybe... if Victor can manage to keep his voice contained. This is torture for him, he is not a quiet person. He turns the screen back to himself and thinks of something more to say. While he considers, he looks through the menus, seeing something like a directory icon and clicking on it. "Aizawa" is listed toward the top so he notices the man's portrait right away, pressing it to find a direct message. It doesn't ring or buzz at it sends, so Victor perks both eyebrows and leans forward to see if the message made it across]

You look asleep in your portrait

[The portrait is definitely the man across from him, it's just not under his given name. The username attached to it is a single word, "eraserhead."]

[Despite the lack of sound, he does flick his eyes down at the sudden change in the image, pulling the device back close to him in order to see. ... Ah, social media. He hated it. Still, it was a silence means of communication and this message did seem to be private between the two of them.]

I always look like this.

[Hair mussy, eyes bloodshot... the only thing he'd got going for him is that recently he had to be clean-shaven, so the stubble around his mouth is more neat-looking.]

oh at least mine is nice

[Meanwhile, Victor's portrait is obnoxiously artsy, something from a photo spread he did recently. He sees nothing wrong with it, of course. In fact, he's pleased that wherever this machine seemed to grab photos from, it had good taste.

His username is less pretentious, just "vnikiforov", like his handle on most site. It was something he would choose, but it was preassigned in his when he opened it...]

Why does yours say Eraserhead? did you get to pick??

[It was identified information, it didn't have to be "nice." He wrinkles his nose while staring down at the text, rather than the actual person across from him. He sends one, then glances up, pointedly.]

Yes, because I kept my mouth shut.

[Same reason he wasn't tossed on his ass, really.]

It's my hero name. [And that's such a natural, normal thing for his world that he hardly feels like it requires more explanation.]

Hero name? What's that?

[the only thing that comes to Victor's mind is those online quiz things; what super hero are YOU? Some people really liked that kind of thing.

This guy doesn't seem like a facebook mom, though.....]

[There's a brief flash of confusion on the other's face, because Russia had its own class of heroes. That shouldn't be...]

[He stares for a moment, before back to the device.]

I'm a registered pro hero in Japan. My license is with my original clothes, so you'll just have to believe me.

pro hero? maybe this thing IS translating wrong

are you a police officer? law enforcement?

[you have to tell him if you're a cop]

[Good thing he's not legally a cop.]

Heroes have been active in Japan and Russia for years. Did you hit your head when they threw you in here? [Because you clearly have great reading comprehension for a concussed man.]

What year, month, day do you last remember?

TDM #001

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