ercookies | TDM 008: A WALK IN THE THEME PARK

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TDM 008: A WALK IN THE THEME PARK

00. Arrival

This time, you come out of the water, the Nameless Island's own inherent energy drawing people in. It's like being suspended between realities and abruptly pushed from behind through a rift in dimensions. It may make you sick, or that might be the motion of the ocean, lifting you to the surface and carrying you to shore.

Waterlogged and covered in sand, new arrivals will be greeted by robots who welcome them with towels and bracelet devices. The A5 card is already loaded up. Feel free to explore the Island, though there isn’t much to see. Most of the buildings are abandoned and in dire need of repair, and beyond the city lingers a thick fog that obscures much of the wilderness from view. Wander too far into this fog, and you will find yourself mysteriously looping back to where you began, your memories of what you were doing and how you got there erased.

With that in mind, it may be wise to stake your claim on a rundown apartment, a tent on the beach, or a bed in the “comfortable” new barracks. Your inventory will be found a day later, wrapped up haphazardly and delivered to each person's makeshift home.

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I. SIX FLAGELLANTS

Welcome, one and all, to a thrilling new location! Robots have worked tirelessly to build, from the ground up, what can only be recognizable as an amusement park. You are just in time for the grand opening of Six Flagellants: Great Advagtures!

The Ferris Wheel routinely stops when lovebirds reach the top, waiting for a kiss - or something more daring! - before it starts up again.

Robots warn of the scary Haunted House: a dark building with wall-to-wall creeps, and hot and cold running chills. Flickering ghosts roam the halls, and you may find an eerily realistic Headless Horseman -- who bids you, "Come closer. Give me head," while pointing to yours. Hey, get your mind out of the... Nevermind.

The Carousel is a two-story affair. Nude figures with familiar faces lounge about, waiting to be ridden, and closer inspection proves that they have the faces of your fellow islanders. Hop on your favorite person and take them for a spin!

There are even Bumper Cars, which have the interesting effect of making one feel more aroused with every bump and impact. (It's randomized each time, so don't try to guess based on car color!)

What should be a similar ride, the Teacups, has the robots' madness written all over it instead. They have misunderstood the gentle spin-cycles for dangerous, dizzying loop-the-loops across a wide track. Some would swear that the ride has a supernatural invocation for fear. Others are simply man enough to admit they're afraid.

Lastly, the Tunnel of Love is not what you expect. Although flavored lube and guides to cunnilingus are on each fleshy-log-shaped boat, the motion of the ocean is quite soothing, and there's a pleasant floral scent in the air that causes a light intoxication.

Don't forget to try the food! Similar to the Street Kiosks, there's a ton of faire food: cotton candy, corn dogs, and the like.

Mascot outfits are available and those who wear them will be rewarded generously with credits.

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II. LIKE A FIREWORK

The next morning, you receive a message on your device: You are cordially invited to a celebration of skinship at the House of Worship. Please do not dress for the occasion.

If asked about it, the robots will confirm that is not a specific holiday, but a simple joyous event. If you pry, they may even say that the Old Ones often made merry and partook in the pleasures of the flesh - and so too should you.

For an hour, there will be food and drink - alcoholic and aphrodisiac. Then, at the designated time, once the sun has gone down, clothes will be shed and a revelry begun.

As fireworks explode overhead, the different colors send the naked senses reeling:

Red: You are amorous towards the people around you. Yours is a joyous celebration. The Auspicious Acts you offer are happy and lighthearted, full of kisses and sweet nothings.
Orange: You feel bold and adventurous, eager to try something - or someone - new. Your preferred Acts may be dangerous or exciting, perhaps with more than one person.
Yellow: You feel reverence when you watch the fireworks, reverence when you look at your fellow people. You feel blessed to be part of the celebration at the House of Worship, and you make the Acts you complete into Acts of worship. You are all about the spirit of generosity.
Green: You are not here to celebrate. Jealousy is your lot. Uncover a new side of yourself, full of bitterness and resentment, and try an Act that treads the fine line between light and dark.
Indigo: You are proud to celebrate! Those around you are lucky to bask in your presence. You have a newly-minted domineering attitude that makes itself known, and your Acts are likely to be something where you'll come out on top.
Violet: These fireworks make you feel unusual - the opposite of yourself. You are different in all that you want to do, preferring Auspicious Acts that you may not have thought twice about before.

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III. MISTLETOE

mistletoe

sensory deprivation

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N A V I G A T I O N

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Oran, similarly, adores fireworks of all varieties, so when he hears of this particular event, he is fully decked: a bottle of fortified wine, his old adventuring pack on his shoulder stuffed with a tatty blanket and some mugs, and a grin across his ashen face.

He is not, however, complying to the dress code, or lack thereof. It's just been terrifically cold out and Oran is still getting used to the wild shift in weather, so he's got some cool-weather appropriate digs on. His garb is oddly elven in make, a vest that shows off the moulded, epaulet-style growths over his shoulders and the length of it dipping down well over his knees.

At this very moment, the tiefling is looking for the best place to sit as the fireworks really begin going off. It should be noted that his tail ends in a blade, or it appears as such: there's a leather sheath over it very much like one might keep on a dagger. When Beau tugs on the hem of his vest, he looks down on her and wrinkles his nose.

"How did you manage to find the perfect epicenter for this? Look... move over and I'll lay out this blanket."

He's all for sharing, but he's also all for haggling to get the best view.

Beau's barely listening to the dress code, down to her underwear, but it's hardly skimpy underwear. It falls more on the utilitarian but attractive side. So she does not judge the tiefling for being clothed. Besides, it's not like she wants to see.

She takes in the dress, the tail, and determines that he's going to be fun to talk to.

"Yeah, I can get into that," Beau decides as she shifts and lets him spread out the blanket.

"You came prepped. I'm kind of impressed."

Whether or not she's wearing a thong or granny panties, Oran doesn't seem to be giving her a pass... so hopefully that's a good start. He's used to the Augur causing all kinds of... uncomfortable situations and so, at least for now, the tiefling is happy to share a few fireworks with a fellow enthusiast, and to keep that a literal take.

The blanket rolls out, and Oran plunks himself down on one corner, his pack set to one side. "You know, usually I get caught in the tail-end of the Augur's plans? I'm glad that for once we get some forewarning, and that the forewarning is for something nice."

Settling in, he pulls some mugs out of his pack, pours some wine for himself. "Want some? It's not spiked, just, uh, fortified."

Beau's still not entirely clear on the Augur situation, but she knows enough to know that she does not trust it. So she's grateful to be sitting beside someone who also, it appears, does not trust it. Or at least does not want to get swept away by it and roll with the punches.

Beau raises her brows with a bare hint of a smile at the question.

"I mean, sure. If it's fortified. Thanks."

"Keeps you warm," Oran replies, grinning and pouring a mug for the woman. She looks tough, incredibly so, and he can't help but take his gaze from the sky (incidentally avoiding being caught by one of those blasts of light just in time... woe would he be otherwise.)

"Are you a soldier? Pardon my assumption... you look like you've seen a lot of fighting."

Beau makes a little noise of understanding at the explanation and takes up the mug. She lifts it briefly in a little salute, a cheers motion, then takes a sip.

"Not bad," she admits. It's definitely not her father's best vintage, but nothing is, is it?

She grins wryly at the question. "Monk, actually," she admits. "But recently I've taken up adventuring. No ascetic lifestyle for me."

She tilts her head in question. "And you? What did you do before coming to sex island?"

A few months ago, that phrase would have had Oran blushing tremendously. Now he's an old hand at slutting it up with the best of them and so he gives a snort and a laugh, then a shrug.

"Same thing. Ah, not the monk-y business, obviously," These arms are noodles, this posture reeks of someone who doesn't balance a lot of book reading with a lot of exercise. "But my friend helped me out of a bad situation, and I joined his other friends to tidy up some trouble back home. It turns out it pays pretty well to rescue kidnapped noblemen, though one thing always led to another."

And he looks down into his cup, reminiscing fondly. Another explosion, another burst of lights that he just misses. "I'm not sure if you'll be happy to know that the only adventuring you really need to do here to avoid asceticism is from your back, but we've all been finding ways to make life worthwhile here besides earning our daily bread."

She nods, assuming. He's got much more of the Caleb look than the Yasha physique. But despite his own noodle arms, Caleb is powerful, so she does not immediately discount the tiefling for not being a physical fighter. If he's done any amount of adventuring, and lived, then he's gotta have something up his sleeve.

"Yup, that's how it goes. Pretty soon you're traveling with a bunch of idiots that you trust with your life and nothing is the same."

Frankly, the fireworks look interesting, maybe prettier, lighting up their skin, their faces rather than the sky, so Beau keeps her gaze down, too.

"And that is?" she prompts. "Opening up a vineyard?"

Oran laughs at that, so he's primed for her guess, which has him just about giggling. "No, nothing like that. My friend uses his card for important things. I waste mine on clothes and things I never got back home."

The wine is powerful enough, but Oran's had enough that he's not the lightweight he once was. He sips thoughtfully, unable to help himself from grinning.

"Neither of us have been here that long. Six months wouldn't make a very good drink, would it?"

"Mm, no," Beau agrees. "I mean, good table wine, but." She knows more than she lets on about being a vintner from her father, on account of his desire to have someone take over the business. Primarily, she knows it had taken effort and some luck to get where he is in such a relatively short period of time.

"Still, might be something to look in to. That and potatoes for vodka. I hear that's pretty easy."

Yes, she's thinking about alcohol as her only way to get through this. So fight her if you don't like it.

"Eugh, you just got here and you're stooping already?"

Chalk it up to mealy potatoes when he was living with his foster family, but the mere thought of rotten fermentation makes his stomach turn.

"I promise, there's more to do around here than watch the vegetables turn to mash."

She laughs at that, pleased at least that he's got a better outlook on life here than she does. She wouldn't call it stooping of course, but she would call it settling.

She doesn't want to. But if she's gonna, she's gonna do it with strong homebrew.

"Okay, like what?" Beau prompts. "And don't say fuck."

"You could take up racing giant chickens," he suggests, grinning, only half joking. "Creatures from different worlds get pulled in just the same as the rest of us. That's how we wound up with a pet chocobo. Apparently some of them are pretty fast. Faster than horses, even.

"Most of them are even very sweet."

"Cho-co-bo?" she echoes, uncertain if she's being fucked with.

"A giant chicken? They're raced?"

Beau takes a moment to consider that, really thoroughly. Or as thoroughly as one can within less than a minute.

"Is there gambling on these chickens?"

"I mean, what are you going to gamble? Vodka?" Oran gives her a wry (or maybe a rye, considering) grin.

"The problem with this place is that the only people who are organized are the ones who want to police people, and the city is so empty there's nothing to police, so you wind up with little pockets of activity. The only time we all get together is nights like this," he flaps his hand upward, laconic.

"You have to make your own fun, but... if you're a betting woman, I'm sure there's plenty to bet on."

"That's what I was gonna ask next," Beau responds. "What to gamble. I'm sure there's gotta be something that's valuable."

Like Molly's little weed stash. Surely they can expand on that.

She narrows her eyes though, confused and distrustful.

"Policing people? Someone here actually wants to do that?"

"Yeah, I mean..." He jangles his bracelet. "If you get sick of bodice-busters from the library, you can always look through old public records of people talking about things. You get... bored," he's genuine, but there is some self-deprecation in his tone. "And it pays to keep an eye on what people are willing to talk about as they're being recorded."

Another shrug, a moment to appreciate the warm glow from the wine... "You might even figure out what someone finds valuable. Bet them that. The Augur's... she's like a kind of cursed, giant bag of holding in a way. You have sex the way it wants you to, you get the thing you want. Someone wants a new lute but is too nervous for it... you help them out. Or you get one for yourself and make them bet you for it."

How about that for layers of complexity?

"Huh." Both of those explanations are more complicated than Beau was expecting. But she appreciates the thoroughness of them. Oran is smart and could be a good, helpful ally to have in her time here.

"So you snoop -- which I'm fine with, by the way -- and you make your own ... sex market? Is it a black market when it's basically done in the open? I mean, you have to talk to people and it's not like anyone doesn't know how you're getting the goods." Kind of theoretical at the end there, but Beau's wondering.

Oran laughs at that, and he shakes his head, trying to allay any weird trains of thought he might have sparked off. "That was a hypothetical." He knows big words and he'll use them because when Even does it, it sounds very nice.

"It's more like... hmm.

"It's like the more you comply with the Augur, the more it, or she, or whatever, is willing to give you what you want without the strings attached. You can take the brunt of what the Augur wants us all to do for the sake of people who are... you know. Uncomfortable with it. When I first came here, it was difficult. A friend dropped off food long enough to help me decide to do what I like doing, so I never felt... pressured?" It's hard to talk out, out loud. "I like to offer that to others, but I also like to keep a stash of useful things. I miss trading in gold pieces."

Beau makes a thoughtful noise as Oran finishes. It's a much different take than how she was describing it before. Much more noble, in a way. It's not something she's thought about because, as much as she hates the idea of doing stuff just because the Augur wants it done, she has nothing against sex. She blusters, but with a willing partner, she's happy to have fun.

The idea that that could benefit someone who is not her is a new thought.

"That's kind of you," she says. "Good. I think I could do that, too. Without feeling too pressured myself."

"It's just selfishness with a nice thought attached," the tiefling shrugs, chuckling. "But I do get lost in thoughts a lot... and I'd prefer them to be good ones. At least," he considers, then shrugs again. "At least until someone finds a weak point in the Augur's strange all-powerful situation that we can all hammer away at, but I've had many hard thinks about that and they always seem to get interrupted by mind-numbing fog or monster polymorphing or blizzards that like to make people cruel. Better to get a little pickled!"

All the more reason to serve them another round! Oran does just that, then leans back to finally watch the show. He'll likely be heading out again before too long, once the Augur's tricky business withe the fireworks settles in, but for now it's nice to enjoy a bittersweet conversation with a new friend.

Beau huffs out a small laugh at that, the idea that it is selfish, but passing kind. Maybe it is. But Beau suspects there's better to Oran than he's taking credit for right now.

It's good to know, too, that someone is definitely making an effort towards figuring out how to fix the situation, not just killing time until it ends.

She accepts another round, lift her glass in a little toast "To new friends" and settles in to watch the show as well.

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TDM 008: A WALK IN THE THEME PARK

00. Arrival

I. SIX FLAGELLANTS

II. LIKE A FIREWORK

III. MISTLETOE

slips in here for some gen

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