Faculty & Staff of Whispering Pines Sanatorium (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wpsfaculty) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thedeadhouse2019-05-28 07:03 am
wpsfaculty) wrote in thedeadhouse2019-05-28 07:03 am
Entry tags:
Welcome to the Dead House | Game Opening
Who; EVERYONE!
What; Log
When; May 28 - June 5
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!
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:
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.
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
Clarice | The Silence of the Lambs | OTA
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. Chiltonalways forthcoming and interesting?Her mind grasped for something reasonable to latch onto, uncharacteristically oblivious to the other patients moving about the rec room. ]