EARTH 24*(&A$%7HGKPOI

[capemods]

WHO: All transdimensional imPorts.
WHERE: The town of Capers.
WHEN: October 24th, noon, to October 29th, noon.
WARNINGS: Probably violence, but alert me if something else evolves and I can update this.
SUMMARY: Lachesis pulls a group of Cityverse imPorts into another world adventure -- here be the wilds of the west, and dinosaurs!
FORMAT: As you please!



You arrive at the town of Capers from one split second to the next -- from the asphalt and concrete of the City to the dusty and earthen dirt of this wildwood space. The sun is hot and the sky is streaked with thin clouds. The landscape of the town is sparse, utilitarian; you'll find saloons and dance halls, quarries and fenced corrals, the local gaol and the hanging scaffold, the shops and medical facilities (barbershop included). In fact, the logwood architecture of the buildings direct into those four major categories, and the structure of the town forms something circular, much like a compass. You might have been ported in at any of these places, as Lachesis would have delivered you at random.

The sun in the sky burns a golden yellow, peering down at you like some celestial eyeball. Almost feels like it's watching you.

You're wearing your clothes and you've got your communicator on you, but that's about it. You can still contact the Network, but you cannot leave this world. And since you look like such an outsider, it takes only a few moments for you to be ushered by local Samaritans to the Capers Town Hall. There, in his white suit and black belt, stands Mayor Eisner -- and he greets you warmly. He tells you that Capers is used to extradimensional pioneers, and he's happy to invite you into his town. But for a town like his to survive at this unilateral crossroads, certain customs must be observed -- you understand, there's a method of expectation that enables order. You might catch glimpses of other imPorts filing in, being escorted by the kindly souls they came across. Mayor Eisner asks you your name and your favorite color. He asks you if you're a spiritual individual, or more secular. He asks you about the first animal that comes into your mind.

Then he ponders your face for a moment.

Then, with a strong and genuine pat on your shoulder, he tells you who you are, in his town of Capers.

You are free to reject or accept the role, but that all comes with respective consequences.

Welcome to Capers, hero.

Comments

[slightlyoffchilt]

"A way to get back earlier?" Well, that sounded promising as well as highly arduous, given the thin-lipped expression his company delivered. "And how, if I may inquire, was that achieved? Exactly?"

It couldn't have been easy, he decided. The way this universe was structured -- or all universes, perhaps, save his own -- there was little evidence of a logical resolution.

[waiting]

"They got themselves killed."

The stoicism Bradbury projected at this moment was roughly on par with the general mien of some species of cacti.

"I wouldn't exactly call it a reliable exit strategy."

[slightlyoffchilt]

"It seems somewhat self-defeating."

He didn't press on the obvious tangential topic -- that people, that imPorts can arise back from the dead -- though the concept intrigued him, in a sort of distant and intellectual sense. Chilton wasn't the sort of man who recognized his own mortality.

"Do you know anyone, personally?" This, though, he did pursue. "Anyone who experienced the act of death? Of suicide?"

He thought the topic fascinating.

[waiting]

That line of inquiry was enough to provoke a side-long glance, wary. Bradbury didn't dislike psychiatry, in principle, knew that it was healthy and good for people to get their issues out somewhere, but he figured if he ever needed any shrinking, he could just head down to a bar and chat up the bartender.

"It wasn't all suicides. Most of 'me were accidents -- or getting put down." He cocked his head, figuring the "yes" was implicit enough that he didn't have to state it. "Why so interested?"

[slightlyoffchilt]

"Why wouldn't I be interested? This is my scope of the world now," he said, somewhat miserably. A tactic of self-pity; he wondered if Bradbury would take to the measure. And if he didn't? Well, Chilton would try another tactic. Trial and error, three words that could aptly sum much of his life.

"Environment has an affect on people, and only archaic academics disagree with such an assertion. The question is, how much environment is influential?" He faced Bradbury onwards, pitching his rhetoric monologue. "If someone is a potential psychopath, with the appropriate neural structure, but enjoyed a warm and supportive childhood? Would this atmosphere, this City's curse, would that bring out their baser instincts?"

[waiting]

Bradbury's brow furrowed, squinting at Chilton like he wasn't sure if the man was actually expecting a response to that spiel, or if he'd simply been looking for a set of unoccupied ears to pour his theories into. Well if he was expecting Bradbury to offer meaningful commentary, he'd have to be sorely disappointed, because all he had to give was a shrug.

"If they snap, I figure there are at least three different superheroes out there who could take 'em." Pragmatic as ever. At least the guy seemed to be distracted from his own misery. "Anyway, what do you mean curse?" He was genuine perplexed. Odd word to throw in the middle of an otherwise scientific spiel.

[slightlyoffchilt]

"Oh, you know, there's something nihilistic about a universe where the consequences don't really matter." Chilton spoke with a sharp, small smirk -- he didn't view Bradbury's pragmatism as fondly as another might. "Perhaps a sociopath would view it as a blessing."

Sociopaths. One of Chilton's favored topics in mouth.

"But I wouldn't be so sure about these heroes. It's a nice thing to think about humanity -- but ultimately? Power is more often abused, and we celebrate it with scars," he said, taking another sip. "Unless you feel otherwise? Personal anecdotes?"

[waiting]

Since coming to the City, Bradbury's grown a pronounced dislike for fast-talking men in suits, especially those who think it's their business to rummage around inside other people's heads. Even if Chilton wasn't precisely dressed the part he claimed, right now, it wasn't too hard to imagine that the guy was probably somehow more obnoxious in his natural element -- some kind of swamp, maybe. The guy looked all wet, and possibly like the kind of thing you'd find under a rock. It wasn't a very generous thought, but Bradbury wasn't in a generous mood.

Instead of answering the question (he could only dodge for so long, he knew, so it was just delaying the inevitable) he opted to shake his head.

"Aren't people in your line of work usually a little less cynical?" He clapped a hand on Chilton's shoulder, more of a gentle tap because he looked like he could fall over in a stiff breeze. "Come on, doc. Cheer up and lemme buy you a drink."