Premise
Quantum Suicide follows the story of those who find themselves in a small town in the middle of nowhere, without a name. Those who live there see no reason to give it any other name but 'this town'. The town's newer residents may one day come to give it a moniker, but its true name may never be determined, if, in fact, it ever had a name at all.
There are two ways one may find themselves in the town. One may simply awaken in the Town Hall, abruptly ripped from wherever they might have been, most unfortunately dropped through a rip in reality. The other is to simply walk in. The town treats them both the same.
On the surface, the town appears to be perfectly normal, and any initial investigation will provide the inquirer with a pervasive, boring feeling. Upon arriving at the town, however, even those who pay no mind to the town at all will soon find that nothing within it could ever be mistaken for 'normal'.
The residents who appeared only vaguely familiar at a distance will become all too recognizable once the threshold of the city is crossed. The town is populated not by nameless, faceless citizens, but with those dear and those less-than-dear to the new arrival. Upon any observation or interaction at all, however, it will quickly become obvious that even they do not adhere to 'normalcy' any more than the rest of the town. The familiar faces are often so far twisted from the new arrival's memories, that they are nothing more than a sick parody of what the arrival knows them as. Sometimes, however, they are just close enough to be almost right. Sometimes, they change.
The town itself, if one were to investigate it, is far removed from the laws of reality. Despite the hustle-bustle of the town's long-term residents, the town distinctly feels...empty. The town itself is devoid of the sounds of any sort of wildlife, despite the fact that one may spot the occasional rodent or carrion-eater in the underbrush. Indeed, even the sounds of the towns residents--transient or otherwise--seem to fade into nothing only a few feet from their origin.
The town is out of synch with whatever reality the new residents hail from. Rules do not apply to the new residents as they might to those who were born into it. While the town citizens recognize any new resident's presence, and will interact with anyone they please (and may not with any they don't), the town itself seems not to recognize their existence at all. Should a new resident attempt to interfere with the town's existence, their actions will simply be ignored.
A resident may attempt to do anything they please. They may overturn tables, they may swipe that delicious pie from the cafe counter, they may even attempt to smash the town hall's broken stereo system after they grow tired of its constant playing of random snippets of music familiar and unfamiliar. However, any effect they may have will only last so long as their attention remains on the object they interact with.
Turn one's concentration away from the object, even for a moment, and everything you have done will be undone. Reset to the way it was before you started. The town citizens appear to be able to interact with things perfectly well...but then again, things always seem to end up back where they belong.
The town, despite its stubbornness, is not static. Whenever it chooses, it may simply...change. One moment it may be the familiar small town a you entered, and the next, it will scramble into nonsense, and return different. Perhaps the local cafe may be on another side of the street. Perhaps the local cafe is on another street. Or perhaps the local cafe's menu serves exclusively food from a galaxy not of your origin. Perhaps there is no longer a cafe at all.
On occasion, the town may simply shift. Shifts are not so dramatic nor so comprehensive as Changes. They are far more frequent. One might even go so far as to say they are common. You may walk into a room (and do mind the door as you pass through), and find that the room you entered was not the room you meant at all. It may not even be a room any longer. The door you passed through may simply be a wall. Or perhaps it is a sheer cliff.
You may see a townsperson, or hear them down the hallway, only to look closer and find no one there at all. You may be quite engaged in a conversation, only to realize you've been talking to yourself the entire time.
Oh. And some days, you may find that you are quite literally speaking to yourself. Just as twisted and different as the rest of the townspeople, and not at all concerned with your similarity.
There is one portion of the town, at its very Westernmost corner, that Changes more regularly than any other. Every hour, in fact, the entire area Changes to something new, something different. Sometimes it is dangerous, sometimes it is fascinating. Sometimes its as unremarkable as the rest of the town. All that seems certain is that it is never the same twice.
You can, of course, leave at any time you choose. You may walk away the way you came. You may will or whisk yourself away any method you prefer.
You may. Nothing will stop you. But you won't.
If you walk away, you walk further into unreality. Fear creeps across your psyche like a sentient predator. Images and creatures race just along the edges of your vision, closer and more visible the further you walk. Paranoia, panic, and terror coils tighter around your chest with every second you remain in it. You may push on, if you have the will-power, the determination. You may even survive the mounting panic. Perhaps you can make it the scant three miles to normalcy without overtaxing your body and pushing it to the point of failure.
Of course, you could turn around at any moment. Two steps and you're back to the town. But if you'd really like to go, you may.
Should you leave, and find yourself home, however, you won't be staying there. The town and its citizens will call out to you. You will not be able to take your mind off of it, morbid fascination, perhaps, or twisted affection for the town that sheltered you from the unreality. Call it what you will, the longer you remain away, the further you run, the stronger the compulsion, the need to return.
Of course. You can say no. You won't be physically dragged back, though you might feel drawn. You won't find it at every corner, though you may imagine you do. But if you do keep yourself away, your body will not agree with your mind. It has already adjusted to the laws of unreality, and if subjected to the laws of reality, it will reject them. Painfully. The longer you remain away, the withdrawal symptoms and the loss of lucidity increase. Its your body to gamble with. You know where the town is.
It's always open to new residents.
NAVIGATION
quantummods | quantumsuicides | turtlesallthway | quantum_comms
PREMISE | RULES | FAQ | TAKEN CHARACTERS | RESERVE | APPLICATION | MOD CONTACT | PLAYER CONTACT | LOCATIONS | NPCs
There are two ways one may find themselves in the town. One may simply awaken in the Town Hall, abruptly ripped from wherever they might have been, most unfortunately dropped through a rip in reality. The other is to simply walk in. The town treats them both the same.
On the surface, the town appears to be perfectly normal, and any initial investigation will provide the inquirer with a pervasive, boring feeling. Upon arriving at the town, however, even those who pay no mind to the town at all will soon find that nothing within it could ever be mistaken for 'normal'.
The residents who appeared only vaguely familiar at a distance will become all too recognizable once the threshold of the city is crossed. The town is populated not by nameless, faceless citizens, but with those dear and those less-than-dear to the new arrival. Upon any observation or interaction at all, however, it will quickly become obvious that even they do not adhere to 'normalcy' any more than the rest of the town. The familiar faces are often so far twisted from the new arrival's memories, that they are nothing more than a sick parody of what the arrival knows them as. Sometimes, however, they are just close enough to be almost right. Sometimes, they change.
The town itself, if one were to investigate it, is far removed from the laws of reality. Despite the hustle-bustle of the town's long-term residents, the town distinctly feels...empty. The town itself is devoid of the sounds of any sort of wildlife, despite the fact that one may spot the occasional rodent or carrion-eater in the underbrush. Indeed, even the sounds of the towns residents--transient or otherwise--seem to fade into nothing only a few feet from their origin.
The town is out of synch with whatever reality the new residents hail from. Rules do not apply to the new residents as they might to those who were born into it. While the town citizens recognize any new resident's presence, and will interact with anyone they please (and may not with any they don't), the town itself seems not to recognize their existence at all. Should a new resident attempt to interfere with the town's existence, their actions will simply be ignored.
A resident may attempt to do anything they please. They may overturn tables, they may swipe that delicious pie from the cafe counter, they may even attempt to smash the town hall's broken stereo system after they grow tired of its constant playing of random snippets of music familiar and unfamiliar. However, any effect they may have will only last so long as their attention remains on the object they interact with.
Turn one's concentration away from the object, even for a moment, and everything you have done will be undone. Reset to the way it was before you started. The town citizens appear to be able to interact with things perfectly well...but then again, things always seem to end up back where they belong.
The town, despite its stubbornness, is not static. Whenever it chooses, it may simply...change. One moment it may be the familiar small town a you entered, and the next, it will scramble into nonsense, and return different. Perhaps the local cafe may be on another side of the street. Perhaps the local cafe is on another street. Or perhaps the local cafe's menu serves exclusively food from a galaxy not of your origin. Perhaps there is no longer a cafe at all.
On occasion, the town may simply shift. Shifts are not so dramatic nor so comprehensive as Changes. They are far more frequent. One might even go so far as to say they are common. You may walk into a room (and do mind the door as you pass through), and find that the room you entered was not the room you meant at all. It may not even be a room any longer. The door you passed through may simply be a wall. Or perhaps it is a sheer cliff.
You may see a townsperson, or hear them down the hallway, only to look closer and find no one there at all. You may be quite engaged in a conversation, only to realize you've been talking to yourself the entire time.
Oh. And some days, you may find that you are quite literally speaking to yourself. Just as twisted and different as the rest of the townspeople, and not at all concerned with your similarity.
There is one portion of the town, at its very Westernmost corner, that Changes more regularly than any other. Every hour, in fact, the entire area Changes to something new, something different. Sometimes it is dangerous, sometimes it is fascinating. Sometimes its as unremarkable as the rest of the town. All that seems certain is that it is never the same twice.
You can, of course, leave at any time you choose. You may walk away the way you came. You may will or whisk yourself away any method you prefer.
You may. Nothing will stop you. But you won't.
If you walk away, you walk further into unreality. Fear creeps across your psyche like a sentient predator. Images and creatures race just along the edges of your vision, closer and more visible the further you walk. Paranoia, panic, and terror coils tighter around your chest with every second you remain in it. You may push on, if you have the will-power, the determination. You may even survive the mounting panic. Perhaps you can make it the scant three miles to normalcy without overtaxing your body and pushing it to the point of failure.
Of course, you could turn around at any moment. Two steps and you're back to the town. But if you'd really like to go, you may.
Should you leave, and find yourself home, however, you won't be staying there. The town and its citizens will call out to you. You will not be able to take your mind off of it, morbid fascination, perhaps, or twisted affection for the town that sheltered you from the unreality. Call it what you will, the longer you remain away, the further you run, the stronger the compulsion, the need to return.
Of course. You can say no. You won't be physically dragged back, though you might feel drawn. You won't find it at every corner, though you may imagine you do. But if you do keep yourself away, your body will not agree with your mind. It has already adjusted to the laws of unreality, and if subjected to the laws of reality, it will reject them. Painfully. The longer you remain away, the withdrawal symptoms and the loss of lucidity increase. Its your body to gamble with. You know where the town is.
It's always open to new residents.
NAVIGATION
quantummods | quantumsuicides | turtlesallthway | quantum_comms
PREMISE | RULES | FAQ | TAKEN CHARACTERS | RESERVE | APPLICATION | MOD CONTACT | PLAYER CONTACT | LOCATIONS | NPCs