Welcome to the Dead House | Game Opening

[wpsfaculty]

Who; EVERYONE!
What; Log
When; May 28 - June 5

one flew over the cuckoo's nest.

Left to Your Own Devices

There's no tugging sensation, so sense of falling or of being uninterruptedly drawn from your own world, or wherever you've found yourself, to yet another. Your sense of smell returns first, as the antiseptic scent of hospital fills your nostrils and a bright light somewhere above you begins to pierce the gloom as a reassuring male voice repeats your name.

A medicinal haze fills your mind, clouding your thoughts as you blink your eyes open. The man, blond with a gentle smile and kind eyes behind thick glasses, across the simple wooden desk from you seems familiar, but you're sure you've never seen the man before...right? He tells you that it's alright, that you had another episode and required sedation, that the drugs are wearing off now and any residual haze you're experiencing should clear as the day progresses.

After a discussion, limbs still refusing to cooperate, you're taken through winding corridors and up a rickety elevator to a floor with rows of numbers doors on either side. One is opened and inside you're deposited unceremoniously on the small cot within. An undetermined amount of time passes as sounds occur around you, the shuffling of feet, muffled voices, a bird at the small barred window letting in overcast daylight. Are the sounds figments of your hazy imagination or is that someone at your open door trying to get your attention? If only your limbs would cooperate...

and at the mercy of a strange device...

The world begins to take in a sharper focus as a vibrating sensation at your wrist catches your attention. There, a plain hospital bracelet, stating only your full name and a room number, is found, shaking gently against your skin. Brushing at it, what first seemed to be only a clear window holding a piece of type-printed paper with your information on it goes to static for a moment, like a small view screen, then to black, and the following words flash quickly across the screen:
your memories are real
there are others
don't believe their lies
Any attempt to respond to the strange message is met with silence. What others? Do they mean the other people on your floor? The other floors? Do they mean their lies or the ones who put you here, apparently for your own good?

Where exactly is here?

The room in which you find yourself is sparsely furnished, but with a bit of peculiarity for the curious and adventurous. The facility itself seems to run on a firm schedule that affords for a lot of free time to use the facilities, be it the sparse showers, the rec rooms on every floor that contact various but rudimentary forms of entertainment, or the yard with its exercise areas, spaces for outdoor sports, and the workshop for the more industrious patients. There's even a list of tasks that need performing, with a reward system in place.

OOC Comment: If you'd like to keep any threads that occurred outside of the event threads from the TDM as game canon, you are free to continue them here!

a round table with the good doctor.

Saturday opens like any other day has in Whispering Pines. You can see the sun is shining out in the yard but can’t hear the birds on account of how thick the window glass is. Taped below the schedule in the rec room and the cafeteria, though, is a notice that all patients are to report to the 2nd floor, wing 1 leisure room directly following dinner. When you all arrive, the sofas and chairs have been moved to surround the small television that serves as your only form of video entertainment.

Once everyone has gathered, one of the nurses clears her throat to get everyone’s attention and the television is activated. The video cuts on to show an office that is at once familiar and completely alien. You can’t help but feel as though you’ve been there before. At the desk is a man with blond hair, a noble bearing, and thick-framed glasses. He has a warm smile that doesn’t seem to touch his deep blue eyes.

“Good evening, everyone.” His voice is accented, something akin to welsh perhaps. “I want to thank you all for joining us. I wish I could meet with you all individually, but time constraints simply don’t afford for it. For those of you who have yet to have the pleasure, I am Doctor Davidson Thorpe, and I serve as the Director here at Whispering Pines. Summarily, that makes you all my patients. Now, I’m sure you all have a lot of questions, but we only have an hour. Now, not all of you at once, but please, feel free to ask what you will and I’ll do my best to answer. I can hear you, I promise.” If you’d like to thread a question and answer with the good doctor, please post it here.

navigation: premise ❈ rules/faq ❈ reserves ❈ patients ❈ applications ❈ setting ❈ ic comm ❈ ooc comm ❈ meme comm ❈ directory

Comments

Thread with Doctor Thorpe

[wpsfaculty]

Re: Thread with Doctor Thorpe

[kingforboth]

Kelson was done being polite. The effects of the medication having subsided over the last couple of days, he did his best not to arouse any more 'attention'. But his patience was wearing thin.

"I don't remember consenting to be here. I assume you have a contract or paperwork to show this is all legal?"No Doctor Thorpe, Kelson did not trust you. Maybe it was that smile. Maybe it was being king for eight years and constantly having others vye for his throne. And his head. Maybe he was just untrusting after being bit in the ass too many times. Maybe he wasn't quite trusting his memory, that feeling of recognition and complete unfamiliarity at the same time. It was quite annoying actually.

Kelson crossed his arms, watching the doctor. Yes, he quite wanted to see that paperwork. Even if he was quite sure the name signed was not going to be 'Kelsonus Rex'.

"I also don't remember having much of a choice in coming here for this session. The schedule you keep does not exactly leave much room for misinterpretation. This get together was not voluntary, was it not?" A little like the good doctor's, Kelson's accent was a mixture of english and welsh.

[wpsfaculty]

If the good doctor is bothered by the commentary, he takes it in stride, that smile never faltering.

"There was no concent on your behalf. This is an involuntary hospitalization. You believe yourself to be Kelson Haldane, correct?" He looked down at this desk briefly, producing a plain, manilla folder. "A king, if I remember correctly."

[kingforboth]

How convenient. As a rule, Kelson didn't trust convenient. There was coincidence and then there was outright maliciousness. Guess which one he was more used too. Unless he was crazy. In which case....

"I don't suppose you're going to let me see that?" He pointed to the folder, trying to decide if he was going to answer the man's questions or ask more of his own.

"Alright. If I'm not Kelson Haldane, who am I? Who would you like me to be? Or am I Kelson Haldane, who is not a king?"

[wpsfaculty]

That smile doesn't show any signs of abating, and it would almost appear kind if it weren't for the lack of emotion in his eyes.

"That's what we're all here to figure out. For the time being, 'Kelson Haldane' is the best we have to go on."

[raccity]

Leon quietly listens to the questions being asked and hangs on every word of the doctor's answers hoping for some kind of clue that just wasn't there.

There's eventually a lull in the questions so he speaks up.

"Is there a treatment plan? Individually or in general? Is there a possibility of getting 'better'? Or being released?" Leon honestly had no idea what was real anymore. Regardless, this place was his current reality and he wanted to know what to expect.

"Oh! And the, um, sedatives... are there side effects we should know about?" Hallucinations, maybe? Short term memory loss?

[wpsfaculty]

He frowns slightly at the question, but Leon's answer is prefaced by a gentle shaking of his head.

"No one knows what the future holds, Mr. Kennedy, but you've all been here for some time and unfortunately very few of you have shown signs of improvement."

He folds his hands atop his desk.

"It's a comfortable enough facility though, isn't it? And no, there are no side effects you should concern yourselves with."

[raccity]

"Are there... milestones? Goals? Anything other than just telling us we're stuck here indefinitely?" He's grasping, he knows he is, but he's feeling pretty desperate for some tiny glimmer of hope here, something to focus on and work towards.

His brows knit at the question the doctor poses to him regarding how comfortable it is here. It's definitely disputable, but he keeps his mouth shut and just nods, determined to be on his best behavior.

"Yes, sir," He nods reluctantly, dropping his gaze. The doctor's reassurance about the lack of side effects really didn't help explain away any of what he'd experienced, though he has a sneaking suspicion that the doctor would shock that up to his 'condition' as well.

[wpsfaculty]

"Try not to think of it as being stuck here, Mr. Kennedy. You are all ill. You're...convalescing. If you'd like to make marked progress, try to see the world as it is, not as your...admittedly cluttered memories insist it to be."

He continues to smile, inclining his head. "Are there other questions?"

Kelson Haldane | Deryni | OTA

[kingforboth]

1.

The drug induced haze that Kelson woke up too wasn't new or surprising. He was quite used to the use of sedatives and most of the time extremely grateful for them. This was not one of those times. He couldn't think clearly and his body refused to cooperate, both of which were not so mildly panic inducing. The feeling that this place and the person in front of him were familiar but that he couldn't place was more than irksome. He was annoyed, frightened and trying not to show it.

Episode? Maybe it would make sense when he was more clear headed. And could move his legs again. Kelson tried for his arms, which were equally unresponsive, and tried to ignore the telltale pounding in his head, and the nausea. Oh God. Trying to fight the rising anxiety, he began to hyperventilate. His peripheral vision was gone. And so was his magic, his shields. He was blind, physically and mentally. Helpless.

He knew from experience it would wear off. Drugs did. He was just unlucky enough that his Deryni ancestry made him rather susceptible to certain sedatives. Kelson knew he needed answers, but he wasn't going to get them now. Not sedated as he was. He let himself be wheeled into a foreign room, with foreign objects he couldn't quite recognize and turned his head to look at the bird chirping from beyond the bars.

He was the King of Gwynedd, wasn't he?

"I don't suppose anyone can get me something for my head?"

It never hurt to be polite. Especially when people had drugs that could probably kill you.

2.

Kelson was sitting in the leisure room, trying to figure out what the games and VCR were, but trying to be low key enough about it that no one would think he was having an 'episode' and sedate him again. The last thing he wanted was some overzealous caretaker who sedated him for his own 'good' and ended up giving him a seizure. As it was he was going to be paying for that latest sedation for at least another day. It was costing him a lot to pretend to be functional at the moment.

At least he had practice.

Well. He thought he had practice. If these people could be believed, he was not Kelson Haldane, King of Gwynedd, and he most definitely did not have practice with anything beyond these walls. Even if he was Kelson, he wasn't in Gwynedd anyway. What was he going to do? Threaten them with magical powers that didn't affect them even if he could use them right now, or with an army he didn't have access too? Or, perhaps, never had access to, to begin with?

No. Now he played along. And needed to figure out what was real, and what was imagination. The eighteen year old chewed his lip, trying to let the pain distract him from the other pain the sedatives set off.

1

[customplates]

Aaron had been wandering around the rooms aimlessly, finding nothing but more questions rather than the answers he was desperately seeking when he heard Kelson's plaintive voice from a room he'd nearly passed by. He stopped and peered in, brow creased with worry.

"Hey...I, uh...don't know that the nurses are going to just give those up, but...is there anything I can do to help? I'm Aaron, by the way."

Re: 1

[kingforboth]

"Not unless you can magically make this headache go away. Can you?" It didn't hurt to check, right? He quite missed his friends at home, especially with their ability to heal headaches. If they were even real and not figments of his imagination. For the moment, Kelson was choosing to believe his own memories.

"I'm not sure I'd trust the....nurses you called them? at the moment anyway. Kelson Haldane. I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but...under the circumstances I think we'd all prefer to be somewhere else."

Jesu, he knew his head wasn't going to actually explode, but it sure felt like it. He never thought he'd be thankful for the training he'd received on how to 'function' like this, but, well, at least he had some experience.

[customplates]

"Uh...no." And he frowns apologetically. If he could do magic, he'd surely do it to help this guy out.

He does smile at the greeting, and nods. "It's still a pleasure. We don't have to let the place ruin it for us, right?" Aaron had always had a penchant for seeing the bright side of things, and it help with coping, really. He didn't want to think his entire life was a lie he'd made up, and he had a hard time believing it either way. He just wasn't that creative.

"Kelson's an interesting name."

[kingforboth]

He almost said 'it never hurts to ask,' but Kelson had seen the results of magic with a fearful populace. He never wanted to see such things again. If this place was to be believed, it was the result of his own delusions. Personally he wanted more than a stranger's word that what he believed and remembered wasn't real. He knew who he was.

Kelson arched an eyebrow at the older man, quite letting this place and the atmosphere 'ruin' it for him. He thought himself not of an optimist or a pessimist but a pragmatist. And if a place smelled like the middens in summer, it probably was going to affect everyone's outlook as well. There wasn't any getting around that.

"What exactly about this situation do you find even the remote possibility of enjoyment? I don't enjoy being harassed, possibly kidnapped and no matter how you spin it, imprisoned against my will."

He sighed, brushing his fingers through his hair impatiently, trying to reign in that Haldane temper of his. " I apologize. Whether or not I'm actually who I believe I am, you should not have seen that pique of temper. It's a fault. " Maybe he could blame the headache.

"Not a name you've heard of then?" Kelson guessed at least that either they were from very different areas or at least they didn't share delusions.

"Can I ask you a question?" Kelson looked rather puzzled at the wall clock. The minute hand in particular was....odd.

Leon Kennedy | Resident Evil 2 (2019) | ota + TDM thread continuation

[raccity]

[ooc: same prompts as the TDM! and I'll be continuing TDM threads here for people who apped]

i. Room
[Leon had dozed on and off after being taken to his room and tossed in the bed. At one point, he was pretty sure he'd woken up and seen a strange message, had it been real? It'd felt real, but apparently, distinguishing reality from fantasy was an issue of his. It didn't help that he'd nodded off soon after seeing the message, making it feel even more like a dream.

When the sound of the door opening wakes him up again, he's feeling more lucid than before. His limbs feel heavy, but he can move now and his mind feels clear.

He blinks, looking bleary-eyed at the stranger. A roommate? Or just a curious passerby?]

Who are you? [He slowly pushes himself up into a sitting position.]


ii. Rec Room
[The more the drugs wore off, the more vivid his memories became. Raccoon City, how excited he'd been when he'd gotten the call that he'd been accepted to the police force there, the outbreak, Claire, Marvin, Ada. These weren't figments of his imagination. Which meant he was here by mistake. Had he lost it after they'd gotten out of the city? Or had he dug too deeply and Umbrella had silenced him?

Leon shuffled into the common room, scanning it. He started with the nurse's station, speaking quietly with them, trying to make them understand that there'd been some mistake, that he shouldn't be here. Their patronizing, calm reassurance that he should just go find something to read or try a boardgame frustrated him quickly.]

No! You don't understand. I'm a cop! I shouldn't be here. I'm not crazy.

[What he didn't realize was that if he wasn't careful, he'd end up drugged again, maybe some kind fellow patient will step in before the nurses decide Leon is being too disruptive.]

for Jesus

[raccity]

[continued from here]

Yeah... there were some mentions of contracts, maybe government, but it wasn't clear who the potential buyers of the viruses were.

[Leon looks around at the peaceful, almost sleepy surroundings. The sun was shining, birds flitting around outside.]

They feel real, but... But it's also easy to believe it was just a nightmare.

Except. That doesn't explain why I'm here. [He massages his forehead again, unable to make sense of any of it.]

[kingforboth]

[Kelson most definitely did not want to be drugged again, he had a terrible reaction to some sedatives and the more scenes were made, the more likely it was. Not to mention rather futile. He walked over to the older man and put a hand on his shoulder.]

Can I get your assistance with something over here?

[The teen pointed at a random object afar, aways from the nurses station. He had no idea if the man would hear him, but he sent a quick telepathic thought anyway, and hoped he wouldn't freak out on him. More that is. Or if he could even do that. If these staff were to be believed, he was mentally unstable and was not a king and did not have any abilities.]

Be quiet. If you make a scene they will incapacitate you.

After all, that was exactly what he would have done.

[raccity]

What? [Leon mostly looks annoyed at the interruption and, at first, assumes Kelson had come over to ask the nurses for their assistance. When it quickly becomes obvious that the young man is speaking to him and not the nurses, he gets a little more annoyed. Not only does he not know this guy, but he's obviously having an intense conversation with the nurses and there seem to be plenty of other people milling around.]

I'm kind of in the middle of something here.

[He would've ignored Kelson altogether, except he hears his voice in his head. That makes him pause and go pale. So... not only did he apparently think he was someone he wasn't, but he was also hearing voices in his head. Shit.]

Uh, actually, yeah. Yeah, I... it- [He glances back at the nurses sheepishly.] Sorry. I-... Sorry.

[Shit, shit, shit.

He doesn't even pay attention to Kelson as he wanders away from the nurses, assuming he'd heard Kelson's voice in his head but that it didn't really have anything to specifically do with Kelson. He certainly didn't jump to the conclusion that it had been a telepathic message.]

[kingforboth]

[Yes Kelson was quite aware of your intense conversation, but hadn't quite the experience to realize that maybe he shouldn't have tried telepathy on people who believed they might be crazy. It was better than executing someone in a fit of rage, though, right? This was totally fixable. He did at least recognizes the reaction he may have caused, the man paling and pausing.

Well. At least he was listening. Possibly? Or completely having an anxiety attack. But at least he wasn't screaming 'magic' and trying to burn him at the stake, so small miracles.

Kelson tries to lead him away, pointing again to some random object that's out of earshot and lowers his voice.]

I don't know how much of what they say is true, but do you really think it wise to antagonize them? They have drugs that incapacitate people. Think of what they could do while you're asleep. Play along.

[Because either they were crazy, and playing along and being 'good' was, well, good. Or they weren't crazy and these people were dangerous.]

I. room

[customplates]

[Aaron was fairly certain he'd been through these rooms before, but the uncertainty and unfamiliarity of this place was enough to get him checking again.

There hadn't been someone here the last time he'd come through. His eyes widen with surprise.]

Oh...uh. I'm Aaron. How are you? Head still swimming?

Aaron | The Walking Dead (open to TDM continuation)

[customplates]

His feet still feel heavy from whatever drugs had been pumped into his system as he made his way down the halls. To his knowledge, aside from exploration after the outbreak that had ended his world, he's never seen the inside of a mental institution before, but he's pretty sure they don't look like this in 2010. Squinting at the harsh light in the rec room as he makes his way, his eyes linger on the schedule posted near the doorway first before he shuffles further into the room, wandering here and there, looking at the boardgames, grabbing a pulp magazine at random from the bookshelf, before finding a seat on one of the chairs and flipping idly through the book.

He starts if someone approaches, smiling sheepishly soon after and chuckling, mostly at himself.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people, you know," though he's smiling as he speaks.

[quietlypersistent]

Clarice returns his congenial smile with a sheepish one of her own. It was a habit she kept meaning to break. That, and the accent. She thought they made her seem like a hokey doormat.

She wanted to exude confidence and professionalism. Neither were possible in her current condition. She put a hand on the chair next to the pleasant man.

"I'm sorry. Comes with the job, I suppose. Or...it used to."

They weren't going to convince her she hadn't just gone through hell training at Quantico, among less savory adventures.

"What are you reading?"

Was it actually possible to have small talk and a normal exchange in this bizarre place? To be honest, she welcomed the divergence from her desperately scrambling trains of thought. It was getting to be Grand Central Station in there.

[customplates]

That's alright, Clarice. Aside from the accent, which Aaron's could be placed somewhere in the upper western US, he comes off as a doormat, too.

He looks up, smiling sheepishly himself and blinks, wondering in an off-handed sort of way what job she might be referring to, but he makes a mental not to ask later rather than diverting the topic. Instead, he looks down at the small paperpack in his hand, realizing he hadn't actually been comprehending the pages he was reading. He guessed he really was that distracted.

It was cheep, worn and old, and the cover looked like it belonged on a rack in an old diner. "You're Only Lonely When You're Dead. I think it's one of those old pulp fictions." And it was worn. Really worn. "And it's old. That's weird, right? We don't really have state-funded Sanatoriums anymore, but...they did when this wasn't old..." He clears his throat.

"Uh. I'm Aaron, by the way."

[quietlypersistent]

Clarice recalled her father's stash of very similar magazines with a private smirk. She had read them herself with fascination, to a likely influence on her 'unladylike' interests. Her mother hadn't thought much of them and had tried to discourage her interest.

Moreso, her mother had tried to encourage her interest to something she felt was more suitable, but as they didn't have much money, she essentially gave up persuading her daughter to have much of any hobby that involved spending money.

She'd grown up very rural and entirely ordinary, to her own indifference. Until she was sent away.

Speaking of diversions, she'd have to remember to look for more odd reads to distract herself next time she was alone. For now, she wanted company. This man seemed kind enough.

She ignored the thought about state-funded wards for now.

"It's nice to meet you Aaron." Polite to a fault, but genuine. It was one of her better qualities. "I'm Clarice. I trust neither of us believes we should be here."

Clarice | The Silence of the Lambs | OTA

[quietlypersistent]

day one | recreation room. please spare us nurse ratched

[ Clarice tried to slow her breathing, tried to clear her mind, tried to quell the rising panic as she submerged the particular last memories to come to mind... Did her best to recall Jack's advice, Crawford's crisis training and some of the better tips from their personal conversations while they both progressed the search for Katherine Martin. ]

You aren't there right now. You're here. And wherever here is it won't do you any good to getting back to work if you can't think straight. Girl, get your shit together.

[ She heard the latter in the accent of her best friend, Ardelia Mapp. She needed Ardelia right now more than anyone else she had ever relied on.

This message... What did it mean? 'Your memories are real.' She wasn't sure if that was more alarming or comforting right now. 'There are others.' Other patients? Obviously. Did it mean others with memories? Because in a sanitarium that wasn't the most reassuring prospect. 'Don't believe their lies.' Did this mean the lies of the staff, convincing her she flew the nest, so to speak, or that her memories themselves weren't real?

...Great. So she was either truly insane, which was unlikely because she had never had this vision before, or she was being held captive. She chose the second, because she was a controversial special agent, or at least, a trainee, if she ever managed to graduate now. The idea of being captured to be part of a sick experiment didn't appeal to vanity as much as it seemed reasonable in her world.

Funny how even in crisis, her work ethic got the better of her.

She wondered what Dr. Lecter would think, seeing her here like this. ]

"This is some sort of twisted joke."

[ She muttered to herself. Maybe he would be one of the staff. He had escaped, after all. Did this have anything to do with him? Should she have listened to her friend's concerned, and not brushed off worry on some misguided belief that she understood the good doctor better than others who had tried?

Was she wrong in believing he would not have called on her, simply because despite her attempt to swindle him for information, she was not Dr. Chilton always forthcoming and interesting?

Her mind grasped for something reasonable to latch onto, uncharacteristically oblivious to the other patients moving about the rec room. ]