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
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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."
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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.
I'm so sorry I lost this notif
"Meeting new people is always good. People don't survive, or escape," he put a subtle emphasis on that last word, "alone. They do it together. So will be."
Because he couldn't believe what this place was feeding them was true. He just couldn't. There were too many people waiting for him, depending on him. "You don't have to apologize, Kelson...even if we haven't heard of each other.' Not that Aaron was someone of any note in his world. No one was, not anymore.
He frowned at the younger man's last question but nodded with concern. "Of course you can."
No worries! <3
And there was something about Aaron that made him smile, reminded him a little of a certain someone, who was as much a father to him as his own. It was a pity he wasn't here.
"You are right of course. This is not the type of situation where it merit's going alone." Kelson studied him for a moment, noting the word 'escape'. " You believe the physicians here are incorrect?" Then he pointed to the clock, trying to indicate the minute hand.
"What is that?" It was obviously a time piece but....
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"I can't accept that my memories aren't real. They're who we all are. If they aren't real, then we aren't either, and that's...No."
He followed Kelson's gaze toward the clock, brow furrowing slightly, then looked back to him.
"It's a clock...it...tells time?"
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"As for our memories. I do agree. I don't know who I am without them. Fantastic is in the experience of the individual. One man's miracle is another's lunacy. I've seen, or at least I think I've seen enough to shake my belief in what could be."
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"The monasteries keep time and ring the church bells every hour."
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He nodded. "Do you know why the monasteries keep time?"
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"Yeah, and at some point in history, people just decided which hour was which, and it spread. I don't really know if that's what happened or not. I'm not a big history buff."
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"You're not? I quite like history. But I suppose that doesn't matter at the moment. Thank you for explaining that to much. Can you tell me one more thing? The light, it doesn't seem to be a torch or other kind of illumination."
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Kelson looked awfully confused but, was willing to go with that answer. Further elaboration, he feared, would just be more confusing. There were a lot of words in that sentence that he did not quite understand.