Madison Valley Role Play

Right, so I think we should incorporate some sort of gift-exchange into Cuthbert and Roland's little party. Doesn't have to be anything big or fancy, just kind of one of those things where you draw names and spend maybe $10 on the other person.

What do you say? Maybe bring a little more Christmas spirit into the town.

Stories and tales; in them we find the heart of a civilization, the soul of a culture. All the sorrows, fears and hopes of life can be found in the stories we tell, and in the way we tell them. In my world, it is said that my people know all stories, and before I came here, I very much believed that to be so.

But here, there are so many that I do not know, tales from cultures my mind hasn't even dreamt of, of people beyond the boundaries of my imagination. If we are to come together as allies - if not friends - in this place, should we not share a bit of our worlds? Should we not tell the stories and songs that make us who we are? I have shared a few over the time I have been here, and would be more than glad to do so again, but for now I should like to sit back and listen, while you regale me with your tales.

So, begin!

Damn dude, I'm about to be returning to my roots and shit. Mi papá is gonna be all sorts of pissed he slaved his ass off just so I could pick fruit and shit when the season starts. Or if I stand out in front of the Home Depot and see if anyone wants to hire cheap labor.

That's all sorts of bullshit.

"You've been here for sixteen hours, go home Vance. Get some sleep in an actual bed. It'll be fine. The world isn't going to stop. Mountains aren't going to fall. And your patients will still be here when you wake up."

Otis. Otis, you fucking liar. You got everything wrong but the buggery bloody goddamn mountains.

I hope whomever is responsible reads this. Do you? Who is taking care of Mr Rebeck when I don't show up for work? It had best not be Glasses Trainee. Have you an ounce of decency you'll remove Glasses Trainee before she's permitted near any ailing patient with wand or vial.

I like Mr Rebeck, his wife brings pies.

[Text Message to Georgia and Shaun, after this.]

>> Guys.
>> Guys.
>> You need to hear this.
>> I've got a feed from the Council chambers on Friday.
>> I'm e-mailing it to you.

[Filtered to Lily]

I found some decent strawberries. At the store. They're not as good as fresh, but they're better than most of the ones you find this time of year. With a little sugar they'll be great.

Thought we could have them while we watch a movie tonight or something?

[Filtered to Shaun Mason]

How's the bike working out?

[UNFILTERED]

God, it feels like the sun is never coming up in the morning. What was it, 8:15 this morning? And I nearly fell on my butt when I left the house - someone really needs to scrape the walk a bit better.

[Filtered: George]

Hey George.

Let's blow some shit up.

I should have gone to Cape Verde.

White sand beaches, almost endless wealth. No extradition treaty. I could have lived comfortably for the rest of my life.

I shouldn't have let Mozzie open that bottle of wine. Or the second one. Or however many were after that.

I'm not sure where I ended up, but I don't think it's Africa.

I went to Radio Shack today. In person. There were other people there. One bumped into me, and I didn't even scream.

This is so an improvement. Before you know it, I'm going to be going out all the time.

Speaking of the money, it occurs to me to wonder:

Where is it coming from?

There's enough of us that it's tens of thousands of dollars, and this isn't a large town. Is it given to them by whomever brought us here (in which case I want a raise in my 'allowance', thanks) or is it from the actual town?

Hey, peeps!

My name is Darcy Lewis and I arrived in this fair town last night. Wasn't expecting to be here, but I like to make the most of things!

Where do I go to meet all the hot guys and gals? What do I need to know to have fun around here?

So on the way home from work today, these guys - about my age, I guess, maybe a little older - started yelling things at me. Not nice things, either. Calling me all these rude names and, well, uh, casting aspersions on my masculinity because of where I was working.

I don't get it.

In this world, it seems that there are things that men are supposed to do and things that women are supposed to do, and it doesn't seem right. It's not that way so much at home, I don't think. I mean, just as many girls have won the games as guys have, and I can think of a lot of guys I'd rather face in a fight before I faced Clove or Johanna.

Why can't we all just do what we're good at? Yeah, I'm better at baking and painting and stuff like that than hunting or woods stuff. That's what Katniss does. And what's wrong with that, on either side?

What strange land is this? This does not look like the Kingdom I am to rule. What magic is this that takes me from my Kingdom to here? Who dared abduct the Queen of Tabor?

Eric? William? Are you here?

Oh, hey, this place does have its moments. I found my favorite axe sitting on my coffee table when I got up this morning.

[The writings of Shaun Mason, unpublished]
People don't know how to handle crazies. They see people with mental problems and automatically assume it's like the old films and shit. Like the stories they read in articles that sensationalize the issues.

I guess we make them afraid.

Though we're not actually any more likely to commit violence or violent crimes more than the average person. Statistically speaking.

But then I also think my dead sister talks to me, so what do I know?

There is something I find very strange about this place and time.

Everyone seems so very isolated, in their little solitary apartments. There is little conversation to be had and that which exists must be actively sought out. Don't misunderstand me; there is a great deal I appreciate about this America, but it is - not at all what I am accustomed to, that way.

Even when I first went to live with my husband and his family and I didn't know anyone I wasn't so  lonely cut off from things. There were always people about, if not family then servants, or guests, or people visiting on business.

I wish Hugh were here. And my children.

Like, how long do you think we'll be here? Will we have time to get used to it?

It's not bad, really, but I kind of miss the angst. It's a lot easier to write depressing angsty romance or poetry in the zombie apocalypse than in this...pre-rising ennui. Although maybe I could use the ennui.

Or maybe I'll just write more porn.

The map didn't say anything about Port Keys. Or hallucinations. So did Salazar Slytherin make a chamber and Rowena hid Port Key Time Turners? I don't understand. I don't think I should say that, the Muggles said it was a network, so there will be other Muggles on it? Like the radios?

If I'm poisoned, none of you would be able to tell me, would you? Or if I were hallucinating?

I don't remember the tests for hallucinating.

I think I lost people.

Um, hello?

My name is Gwen Shepherd. I'm not entirely sure where I am or how I got here. I can't seem to reach my mum or my friend, Lesley, with this phone.

Has anyone heard of the Lodge of Count Saint-Germain? They should be able to help me get home.

And, um, this might sound crazy, but what year is it?

I have a public service announcement:

Let it be known that curtains are extremely useless. They are also extremely dangerous and everyone should avoid them at all costs. Ever.

They've got this nasty habit of killing things that fall into them.

Don't say I didn't tell you.

This is going to sound like the strangest question, but is there any place we can stay besides the apartment complex? The thing is, I've almost died twice in one and they make me feel a little claustrophobic and panicked about the no easy escape if you get trapped in one.

What the hell is wrong with you people?

You encourage weakness in every possible way, you scorn strength, and you're constantly whining about stupid shit you can't control.

You don't train kids with civic duty worth a fuck,mand you fucking keep weapons away from them instead of training them to be lethal.

You're training a world of pussies, not a world of strength.

I have read your Constitution, and about your Republic and how it functions. The library here is very extensive. I wonder, though. I wonder if it would do any good to read about my own country, what you would call history and I would call the future. Would it do any good? How even should I take it: as a storyteller's account with the usual embellishments, or a cautionary tale, or a true and accurate reflection of what is to become of my own family?

I do not know if it is a good idea to read such things.

Technology is easier to read about, and perhaps more useful. Another question. How might I learn to ride a car? There are no horses here and it would seem silly not to adopt your mode of travel.

I have learned that a package of cigarettes in this time and place costs five dollars and eighty-eight cents. I then learned when I tried to convert this to Francs that Francs no longer exist! Instead in France they now have something called the Euro. Well, at least Enjolras, you will be pleased at such a display of unity.

I however will remain aghast. How on earth do people in this day and age afford their vices!? It pains me to know the cost of other such items. I require immediate tutelage.

Your sisters aren't anywhere near as cool as mine is. In fact, my sister is cooler than God.

I say that with all the religious fervor in the world because it's true. A couple of years ago we were out in Santa Cruz--which is zombie territory down to its viral infected bones--doing the only thing worth doing in zombie territory: poking zombies with sticks to see what happens.

We were out there with George's bike as the only means of transportation back to base. I was making friends with one of the locals, which is pretty standard stuff: a solo zombie isn't much of a threat. Four zombies isn't much of a threat if you know how to handle yourself. But more than that and you're probably going to die.

So of course we got ambushed. They had closed in on us on three sides and set up the kill chute forcing us to take the bike down toward the bigger mob, where they'd close ranks and eat us for lunch as soon as they caught us. Then George takes us up this hill. Hills are salvation or your burial ground and you've got a 50% chance of making it so of course she thinks:

Why don't we just go over the zombies?

Genius. My sister drove her dirt bike over a zombie herd. We turned into the Wright brothers for several glorious moments in total liftoff. We survived.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is why you should never go into the field without someone who is willing to do stupid shit with you.

I used to like reading dystopian fiction. I mean apart from the stuff like Brave New World which is ridiculous anti-genemod propaganda from before it got fashionable to write stuff like that.

But the longer I'm here and see what this world is like, without Y-Energy, and hear about all the worse places other people come from? The more disturbing I find it all. I can't appreciate in fiction what might actually be true in someone else's timeline.

I'm so thankful for Kenzo Yagai. I bet if he were here he'd find us a way home. I want to be home for Christmas because Thanksgiving without family wasn't right at all.

Death is something that happens to everyone. We can't stop it, although most of us want to put it off as long as possible. But it's not death, or how you get there that really matters in the end. It's how you live the life you were given, and how much you've loved. Because love...it's the strongest thing there is. It's stronger than the Capitol, or the torture, or the pain that's a natural part of living.

Love and hope go hand in hand and as long as you have them you're stronger than anything the world can possibly throw at you.

Because the world will go on. Life will get better. Because things can only stay dark for so long before something snaps and good takes over, and the sun comes out again. I've seen it. And I have faith in it, because I know how strong love is. I know how strong people can be. I've seen it.

A whole town that survived the Virus? How is that even possible? Almost everybody died.

Jason? Zoe? Oh please be here.

What the hell is this!?

We’re done playing games. It’s over.

They claim they don't know what I mean but if this really is a Capitol trick...you know what do what the fuck you want, but you leave those kids alone. It’s enough.

[The writings of Shaun Mason, unpublished]
George always said I was suicidal, and I guess if you run headlong into danger on purpose that qualifies you as being a few cards short of a full deck. You know what I say?

Fuck it. Let's blow some shit up.

There's a thrill that comes with what I do. It's a roller coaster of fucking adrenaline, the rush of excitement and pure terror, where the only thing that matters is that you take action. You make a decision and go with it, while your heart pounds and you think, this is it. This could be it. The day you fuck it up and die because you're an idiot that likes to poke zombies with sticks to see what happens. It's the most addicting feeling in the world.

I stopped going into the field after George died. There's just something about having shot her in the head that makes it hard to enjoy doing my job anymore. But God do I miss it sometimes.

Not that it matters here. The only zombie I'll have to shoot is George, because fuck if I'm sticking around for the aftermath.

I'm looking forward to relegating these details to the shrinks that think they can help.

I hate cold weather. Like...really, really hate it.

Girls wear way too much, for one thing. It's like we go from a world of beautiful people to a world of bundled up snow bunnies. Not nearly as sexy.

[Filtered to Harry Dresden]

Talk to me. You've been silent lately.

So, I'm really thinking we should have a 'whose timeline sucks most' competition. Pretty sure mine's in the running, but at least we don't entertain ourselves by killin' kids on reality TV. Shit.

So, like, this place is getting really boring. There's only so much I can do with old-fashioned wires from Radio Shack (they still use coaxial cables. And their HDMI cables? OMG, so cute. But not terribly useful).

And like, I'd write more porn, but apparently that is frowned on in this establishment. (I do love that commercial).

So. Should I just study the history of really old and useless electronics, or is there actually something better I should be doing?

[Filtered to Random]

Hey. Let's go to a movie. Like. For real.

What the hell? This isn't home. Not nearly enough trees.

[Filtered: George]
Dropped a file to you just now. It's raw footage of first contact with pre-Rising shrinks! Brought to you by Shaun Mason.

She did a good job of hiding her surprise when I started talking to myself. That moment of 'oh shit' before she cools her expression.

I'm trying not to make it a game to see how many times they'll refer me to someone else before one sticks it out long enough to make me their guinea pig. Wanna make bets?

I wish to retract my earlier statement.

This is not a nice place to live, it's beastly, and I was being childishly optimistic and naive when I said otherwise. I apologize to any decent people who were misled by what I said.

How does one go about getting a job here if we don't submit to a blood test?

[The writings of Shaun Mason, unpublished]
I've been putting together another black box. I guess it's kind of stupid to do because I can't take it with me when I leave here. I'm not toting that shit around on the off chance I get sucked up and spit back in zombieland tomorrow. I don't have anything here worth leaving to anyone anyway. Whatever I could leave to George she already knows about--hey George, stop reading my files--so there's no reason to make a ceremony out of it or anything.

But I don't expect her to stick around long after I'm gone. That depresses me but if I don't think about it too hard my mood stays okay. If I don't think about a lot of things too hard my mood stays okay. I haven't hit anything today. A+ for effort.

Fuck, what am I doing with myself?

The medicine here stinks. I feel like a cave person. But I can keep my eyes open for a while, so I'll take it, I guess.

On an unrelated note, I have a 'future person' question:

How do you handle people trying to stop you on the street? We don't walk around, there's no social protocol for it. I'm twitchy.

I have heard much talk lately of the fae, and the dangers people face when they come up against them. If you've a moment, I'd very much like to tell the tale of my own experience with the fae, and the dangers, pleasures, and mysteries that surround them in their land; so close to ours, and yet so far away.

It was not very many months ago, when I went away from University, to the service of Maer Alveron, a particularly powerful Vintish noble. He wished for my skills at tales and music to help him court the woman he loved, which I aided him with very ably and successfully. I shall not go into detail at the moment of how I saved his life from a murderous alchemist, or how I won him the love of his life only to be cast aside by the both of them...

But alas, those are tales for another time.

The Maer sent me, with a motley crew of soldiers, deep into the wilds, to capture a bandit who had been stealing great sums of money from him. Indeed, much is to be told with this tale as well, and perhaps in time I shall tell you of our daring fight, and how I called down the lightning to win the day, but for now, our story goes elsewhere.

On our way back home, we came by a vision of feminine beauty; a woman lovelier than any other, bathing naked in a pool as she sang. Most of the men were enthralled, and had to be held back from rushing to her, and to their certain deaths! For this was Felurian, an insatiable fae seductress from whose arms men have never returned with both their lives and their sanity. We were able to restrain them, but I...enraptured - but not enthralled - by her music, and the beauty of it and of her, made a conscious choice to follow her. And so I did, into the faen realms. I, like others, spent many days in her arms - or was it weeks? or months? or years? Time passes differently in the faerie realms, and I know not how much time I spent with her, drunk with the touch of her, learning all it was she had to teach me about love, and sharing music with her in more ways than one.

But in all my time with Felurian, she was unable to bend me to her will. She tried - oh, what a prize I would have been to her, indeed - as I was far from being one of the hunters or farmers she usually ensnared! But she was unable to control me, as I found her Name, and with it bent her to my will.

In time, my wish to return to my land, to my home, and those I had left behind grew stronger. Felurian had never faced such a thing before, as all men before me had either died or been driven mad in her embrace. But through music, a little bit of trickery, and the power of my magic, I was able to convince her to allow me to leave - on the condition that I would someday return to her. For, I told her, how was I to call her the best of all women at the art of love when I had known the touch of no other women?

And so I, alone of all men, left the faen realm, and escaped the arms of Felurian with my life, and with my mind intact.

And I warn all of you to heed Mr. Dresden's words of their danger; no matter how lovely they may appear. Always remember that there is an alien otherness beneath whatever charmed words they may tell you, and whatever sensual pleasures they may promise.

I've been so sick this last week I thought I was going to die, but apparently I wasn't nearly as sick as I thought.

I would love to know more about how the technology here works. I've never seen anything like it, even Master Kilvin's work in the Artificery.

Hey, everyone.

My name's Peeta Mellark, and I wasn't in the best shape when I got here didn't greet all of you as I should have.

When we introduce ourselves at the games

So, I guess what would be interesting to know, since we're all from different places - what's the thing that's most different between this place and your home?

For me, there's so much food, and everyone has so much money. My father owned the bakery in our town, but I could hardly ever afford cookies or cakes, because the cost of sugar was so high. But here, I see kids coming in the morning before school every day and buying two or three doughnuts. It's crazy.

So, what about everyone else?

I have been told a little about this place. I cannot in Christ's name fathom how I was brought forward eight hundred years - eight hundred! - but I am told that there is nothing to be done for it, and my father always said to me that I ought to make the best of what couldn't be changed.

That said, I have some questions, if one of you might be so kind as to answer.

1. Who is the lord of Indiana? I would speak with him
2. I was asked after magic and I am uncertain: is it herbalism they mean by the word? Or heresy? For they are quite different.
3. The...horseless carts. I admit I'm not sure what my question is, exactly, but - might someone explain them?
4. Could I have directions to the nearest traveler's hospital? I find myself in need of a place to stay for the night.
5. Additionally, I may require the service of a midwife. Is there one to be found here?

Any assistance you might provide will be met with my gratitude.

Mahelt Marshal

It's nice to find new things that you're good at.

Shaun Mason, I claim my 20 dollars!

( Warning: Sexual situations )

So this is a charming kind of town and I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason why I’m here, or imagining myself here, because god knows I’ve been pretty much on the verge of a psychotic break for a while, but I kind of need to be somewhere else right now and I can’t be stuck in a place where people have Elvish names and there’s not even a basic firewall around the network here. Although I see some secure patches here and there - sorry if I encroached on your security, fellow hackers, I’m just trying to find a secure wifi signal.

That really wasn’t a very good introduction, was it? Let me try again. Hi. I’m Felicity. And I don’t really believe in god. I hope that’s not going to be a problem.

So I've got a job. It's boring, but at least I'll have money without hacking the debit cards. And I like the fancy title 'Systems Admin for the City of Madison Valley.'

[Filtered to Georgia and Shaun]

I've totally bugged them. You want the frequency? Or just the recordings?

So, it's pretty obvious that a lot of us have wildly different opinions about what's appropriate to post on the network and what isn't. Obviously we can't please everyone, but maybe we could come to some sort of agreement on what should and shouldn't be posted on the network (at least without an Over 18 filter)?

These are my suggestions, but feel free to offer your own.

Please Filter the Following to People Over the Age of 18
1. Graphic talk of sex.
2. Requests for sex.
3. Complaints about lack of sex.

Anything else? This isn't telling anyone they can't talk about this stuff, just trying to make everyone a bit more comfortable.

Private to Marius Black:

I need you to write me a script for something.

Added After:

Private to Shaun:

I have vaguely, might work sort of tears, I think.

I think it's going to snow soon. I can feel it.

And no, I didn't do it, Harry. It's almost winter.

Would anyone like a snowball? The edible kind.