pumpkinhollow: (Default)
pumpkinhollow ([personal profile] pumpkinhollow) wrote in [community profile] ph_logs2024-08-15 06:22 pm

[ August Event ] Thatcher's Blight

**Plain text version here.
THATCHER'S BLIGHT
FLU SEASON
CONTENT WARNINGS: Pandemic/quarantine, exaggerated rabies allegory, loss of faculties, medical, unsanitary, extreme violence, mental degradation and dementia-like symptoms, zombie-like behavior, guaranteed death.

-

The day that the plague comes to Marrow Isle has all the makings of a very peaceful day on the island. Incidents of Dirt Men and dragon sightings have been minimal, the crabs are in the process of receding back into the sea, and the weather has been lovely. Warm with a crisp breeze, not a cloud in the sky. The heat of summer is beginning to peter out and the smell of autumn begins to waft in the breeze, thoughts turning to apple harvests and colored leaves. It should have been a lovely day.

But let’s be honest, that’s always the first sign of trouble, isn’t it?

The market in town bustles as usual when a stranger walks into town. This isn’t inherently strange. New people arrive all the time, after all. What makes this particular incident strange is the fact that the unusual man enters from the wrong side of the island, seeming to come from the mountain rather than the shore. His features are strange, elongated uncannily and darkened in peculiar places as if being lit from directly above by a spotlight in a dark room. He is smiling broadly, his eyes bright but glassy, and he walks with a bit of a stagger as he tours every single shop and booth in the marketplace. He laughs loudly, touches everything he can, puts his hands on every person who will allow him, and lets out a rattling cough at random intervals. Sometimes the cough comes with blood. And if you ask him if he’s alright, he’ll laugh heartily and answer, “Oh, I’m fine, I just haven’t been feeling so well.”

When the man is detained and taken to a clinic, he goes without complaint, telling jokes the whole way and following any orders or requests with genial compliance. He’s hazy, but well-mannered and friendly. Any questions for the stranger, however, are met only with peals of near-drunken giggles, with only two exceptions. When asked what he is sick with, he will readily answer that he has something called “Thatcher’s Blight.” And when asked for his name, he will answer, “Patient Zero.” But by the time this information is passed to the radio and newspaper, people are already beginning to cough.

VIROLOGY
PROGNOSIS Thatcher’s Blight is a viral infection that is transmitted primarily through body fluids, but it can also become airborne and will stick to surfaces that are not cleaned thoroughly. The onset is fast and aggressive, and the diagnosis is always deadly. At least until a cure is found. Thankfully, Pumpkin Hollow is staffed with medical professionals from all throughout time, whose job it will be to research the disease and create a vaccine. Below is a thorough overview of all of the details you’ll need OOCly, but ICly these things should be figured out organically.

Stage 1. Incubation + Initial Infection [ 2-6 HOURS ]
› Incubation is extremely short, and the virus begins manifesting symptoms quickly after initial infection, sometimes as soon as a mere two hours after contact. Patients experience strong flu-like symptoms, including exhaustion, nausea, fever, running nose, sore throat, cough, increased heart-rate, difficulty breathing, and mild delirium. A patient will become truly infectious when a fever forms, and will need to be handled with caution in this event. Infection from a patient in Stage 1 is not impossible, but notably lower than the later stages of infection.


Stage 2. Prodromal [ 16-24 HOURS ]
› Characterized by severely increasing symptoms as patients' bodies attempt to fight off the disease. Flu-like symptoms worsen, and any suffering the illness who were not bedridden will often become so. Confusion worsens severely; completely lucid patients will lose track of where they are, or who they are with. Emotional dysregulation begins, and short-term memory starts to degrade. Infection from a patient in Stage 2 is not impossible, and is increased from the low rates of Stage 1, but is also notably lower than the later stages of infection.


Stage 3. "Amnesiac's Recovery" / False Decline [ 30-38 HOURS ]
› So named due to a return of many of the patients' physical faculties, such as standing and walking without issue, but cold-like symptoms continue. Patients' short-term memory continues to degrade and general confusion remains severe, and many will enter a so-called "time loop" of their day-to-day actions: whatever action they were taking before the "loop" begins, they will repeat. If someone goes to the grocery store, they will pay, take groceries home, drop them, and return to do so again. Phone-calls will be made again, and repeat beat-for-beat.

Addressing the "loop" will often cause a patient to regain some lucidity, but they will often fall back into doing so once more if left to their own devices. As the False Decline moves into the next stage, patients will begin to experience sharp, often unprovoked bursts of rage, or a persistent level of frustration.


Stage 4. "Propagation" / Furious Form [ 40 - 52 HOURS ]
› Most often observed in carnivores and omnivorous species, as many herbivores/prey animals will simply attempt to run, hide, or collect with their herd (which frequently performs the same function). Notably, this stage for animals lasts a distinctly short amount of time, and transfer rates between animals are remarkably low compared to humanoid infection - the reason for this is unknown.

Patients seemingly succumb to a deep rage and attack any moving object in sight, track sources of sounds, and occasionally begin lashing out at inanimate objects. Dexterity is reduced sharply; patients with hands will no longer be able to grip doorknobs or use intricate tools.

No regard for physical well-being is maintained, and patients will undergo grievous injury to attempt their attacks. Attacks are never made with intention to kill, though fatality from wounds is possible; the intention of the "Propagation" period is to spread the virus as widely and quickly as possible. If one target is too difficult to reach, it will easily be abandoned in favor of an easier one.

Cognitive functions are scarce beyond seeing and hearing - however, "word salad" often comes from patients capable of speech, frequently containing thoughts or spoken words from their final moments of lucidity.


Stage 5. "Last Ditch Effort" / Paralytic Form [ 62 - 70 HOURS ]
› After the previous stage's "last push" is complete, patients' bodies begin to shut down. The body succumbs to the virus, leaving the afflicted catatonic and immobilized. In a final attempt to use the host's body to further spread the virus, however, it will use one last strategy: reaching out to the kindness of others.

The patient, despite no longer seeming physically aware of their inability to move, will call for help, plea to anyone they can see, or weep. Any contact with fluids by those attempting to assist will often result in immediate infection.


At the end of his account comes the worst of the news: Mr. Thatcher did not discover a cure for the blight that claimed his hometown. When the Royal Guard arrived to provide assistance, there was little town left; what was left aside was felled to prevent the spread from moving any further.
RESEARCH BEGINS The first step of defeating the plague will be doing background research. Pair up with a research buddy and start looking into the history of Thatcher’s Blight. We will need threads where people locate the following information:

  • The original medical records from physicians in Grier’s Glen regarding Thatcher’s Blight. (The info contained therein can be found OOCly in the “Prognosis” section, but finding it ICly will be important! Plus there’s a lil bonus info there.)
  • The identity of Patient Zero.
  • What Patient Zero is, exactly.


If you believe you are close to acquiring said information, reach out to a mod! If you are correct, you will receive a little digital info card. If not, you will get a clue.

There is a bit of a time buffer between the event’s beginning and when a vaccine can be developed, so use that time to work on this. It’s best if teams work on this simultaneously!

DEVELOPING THE VACCINE This portion of the event, though being narrative, has a mechanical function as well! Thatcher's Blight cannot be cured before 8/18 (which will be a full course of the illness in the earliest townsfolk who contracted it). We will be asking for characters in the medical professions to be rolling a d20.

For a successful trial of the vaccine, a group of participating medical staff must collectively roll at least a sum of 40. Anything lower and the trial fails, and the test subject contracts the Blight as normal. (This means, for ease's sake, if one character rolls an 18, another character can roll a 12, and a third rolls a 10, that third vaccine trial will succeed!) To try again, they must acquire a new volunteer.

Up to 4 people with appropriate medical knowledge can roll per trial, and these are added the same as any separate trials towards that collective 40. Threads with non-medical people assisting medical staff can allow that character to roll at advantage (ex. if Watson and Mulcahy have a thread together, for all trials going forward, Watson can roll 2 dice and submit the higher roll).

The vaccine is cleared for use after 3 successful trials, and is able to be distributed to the rest of the town from there!

VIOLENT OUTBREAK
SOMETHING IN THE AIR The first day is a tense sort of quiet. Every cough or sneeze is fussed over, and everyone in town seems to be holding their breath. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Pumpkin Hollow’s fantastical problems have always been bad, so no one’s under any illusions that this will be a walk in the park, but there’s always those same early whispers whenever a new horror rears its head. What are we in for this time? How bad will it get? But even as anxiety hangs in the air for the entirety of that first day, even as the flu-like symptoms take hold in seemingly record time and people’s minds grow hazy, there is an uneasy peace that the uninformed might even mistake for things being not so bad. Some victims are even beginning to look better after some rest.

But then, late into the second day, the looping starts. Infected people begin repeating tasks, such as doing the same chores over and over, visiting the same stores and purchasing the same items, and making laps around a specific area for hours. While the infected still seem more lucid, they can’t recall their previous “loops” and will get agitated and even violent if pulled away from their activities. Their loved ones and neighbors will also find them still very contagious.

And by the 48 hour mark, the bloodshed begins in earnest.

QUARANTINE CHAOS The most jarring part of all of this is how quickly the situation devolves from tentative worry into screaming chaos as the third day dawns. The infected begin to rise from their slumber to lay waste to their neighbors, attacking with abrupt and unprovoked violence, breaking into homes and jumping people in the streets. They break skin, break bones, but they do not kill--- at least, not on purpose. At the sight of blood, they immediately abandon their quarry, because killing was never the point. The disease does not want to kill. It wants to spread.

Lockdowns begin swiftly, with the uninfected hunkering down in clinics and easily defendable communal buildings. The most viable shelters are Town Hall or Greymare Library for Downtown Hollow residents, and Prague Mill or Baker Ranch for Northwest Hollowites and those who live on the Bluffs. Leeds Estate is also quite defensible, but it appears that Dahlia shut up her doors and windows well in advance. Those who try to shelter in their homes find that luck is not with them.

However, these locations don’t have the means to maintain a population on their own. Supply runs for medical items and food will need to be organized. Who will brave the danger?

Additionally, each shelter is advised to keep a radio available. The radio tower built adjacent to Town Hall is running as often as possible thanks to Phil Connors and Cecil Palmer. A small militia has been formed by Gerry Keay to keep the radio tower defended at all costs, and he’s happy to recruit more help. Sending stones still function for communication, so it’s best to stay in touch and work together while the medical team develops a cure.

VAXXED UP [ CONCLUSION ] When the research is done and the trials succeed, all it takes is a little more time and a few more materials to produce enough vaccinations for the whole town. And surely someone will set their sights, and their syringe, on Patient Zero.

Despite his general haziness, the moment he sees the needle, he will flee as quickly and as violently as possible. Give chase! Even with the vaccine protecting the islanders, it’s not safe to let this suspicious superspreader go on as-is. And once the island’s strange visitor is soundly subdued, all that remains is to vaccinate the townsfolk and quarantine the remaining unwell animals until the disease runs its course before Thatcher’s Blight is safely behind you.

Although you may want to give everything you own a good scrubbing, just to be safe.

SHELTER IN PLACE (OPT OUT)
Prefer to opt-out? No worries. As soon as Patient Zero arrives, Dahlia begins contacting as many people as she can confirm are healthy under the guise of a “meeting”, providing somewhere safe and comfortable to stay until all this blows over. Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty to do there.
SLUMBER PARTY Word of the afflicted stranger wandering the town hasn’t even reached every ear before Dahlia begins approaching people and insisting they come up to her mansion. She doesn’t use sending stones or even the phone to issue these invites. She simply walks up to you, whether she knows you or not, eyes you suspiciously for a moment, and then informs you that your presence is needed at her estate as soon as possible. “Bring your essentials,” she says vaguely. “And don’t touch anything outside your house until you get to the manor.”

No, she’s not accepting recommendations, requests, or demands for who is allowed to come in. No, she’s not explaining why. No, your relationships with her or others don’t have any bearing either. She is choosing apparently at random--- although, those who know her well might be able to guess that her senses are keen enough to tell her who has been infected, and who has not. If you say no, she will not push, but you get the impression that you probably should not refuse, based on Dahlia’s serious demeanor.

By the end of day one, Dahlia’s gates are locked, and her doors and windows barricaded. Only then does she explain--- including the caveat that the doors will not open, come hell or high water, until the trouble is confirmed to have passed. No one in, no one out, no exceptions.

MURDER MYSTERY MANSION As the days drag on, the waiting grows dull. Not the sort of dreary dullness of calm days spent whiling away the hours, but that sort of anxious boredom characterized by helpless dread. Loved ones are worried after. Attacks at the gates grow more frequent, and louder. Thankfully rations seem plentiful enough in the house of the wealthy heiress, but some of the things dwelling here need to eat things other than what can be found in the cupboard. And it can only be delayed so long.

At some point in the week and change that the plague darkens Pumpkin Hollow’s collective doorstep, Miles Upshur disappears from the manor for a day, evidently snatched up by something or someone he couldn’t see in the middle of the night. Blessedly, he resurrects inside the building, but now there is a new worry--- who, or what, killed Miles? The boredom is swiftly replaced by a whodunnit mystery, but is that better or worse?

For the sake of the timeline not conflicting with House Calls, this will resolve itself within the span of one full week, likely coming to full conclusion by the 23rd. Backtagging is always welcome and encouraged, however!
when_a_grids_misaligned: (consternation)

False Decline / Furious Form

[personal profile] when_a_grids_misaligned 2024-08-18 12:01 am (UTC)(link)
"You g̷̣̽o̷̡̔ away! What's your prob-prob-p-p-prob-problem?" Moiré stutters like a computer at the limits of its memory, pointing an accusing white-gloved finger from under the O&I's awning. The next sentence out of their mouth is barely intelligible under the static buzz. "I̴̞̦̒͌̾̔̉̕ţ̸͙̥̜̇̉ ̸̢̣̟͓̬̇̌̿͒͠ͅẅ̵̡͇̯̮͚́̈́̇̓a̷͉̘̜͈͌̚̕ṡ̷̢͇̦͔̩̟̣̥́͂̀͗͘ ̴̡̦͔̖̤̬̬̜͑͂̐q̴̢̥̞͈̎̏ų̴͖̞̹̭̏̃̌̏̅̌̾̀͝ï̶̜̱͍͖̮͌ę̷̰̟͌̓͜͠ţ̸͕̜̰̩̈́́̋̅͘̕͠ u̸̼͂n̶͙̈́t̵̡̅ȋ̵͈l̶̙̈́ ̴̖̄ỹ̸͓o̴̩̽ủ̶̞ g̶o̵t̸ ̸h̵e̸r̵e̵!"
lofi_charm: (angy)

[personal profile] lofi_charm 2024-08-18 12:39 am (UTC)(link)
Martin is far too gone to process the comment. All he knows is that a person is moving. He needs to get close to them, needs to hit them, make them bleed, he doesn't know why but it doesn't matter. He doesn't even realize that doing so will not work as intended, given that Moiré is already infected, but that doesn't matter either. He storms over, raising his stick. "ⱠɆ₳VɆ ₥Ɇ ₳ⱠØ₦Ɇ!"
when_a_grids_misaligned: (consternation)

[personal profile] when_a_grids_misaligned 2024-08-18 01:18 am (UTC)(link)
"Shut̵͍̾ u̷̹͒̅̒p̴̗͒̀̇!̶̢̻̀"

Moiré takes a wobbly, flickery step out of the way of the stick, staggers further sideways than they needed to as their head spins (they really shouldn't be out of bed, but they wanted fresh air so badly), and whatever else they were about to say turns into a coughing fit tinged with microphone feedback. Somewhere in the back of their mind they're not sure why a probably-drunk guy looking for an excuse to start a fight (that must be it, they're outside the pub... What time is it? Why did they come out here again?) is such a big deal, but that sensible thought is being wrestled to the ground by a stubborn need to prove that they're right.

"I was heŗ̷̠̗̎e̸͈͎͌̄ fi- fi-fi-fi-fir-fiŗ̸̧̹̻̄̎́s̴̛̞̱̓͌̊t!"
Edited 2024-08-18 01:27 (UTC)
lofi_charm: (spooky)

[personal profile] lofi_charm 2024-08-18 05:07 am (UTC)(link)
Martin lets out a haggard wheeze, loosing a cloud of fog and a spray of blood, as he lifts his stick over his head and wordlessly tries to bring it down on Moiré.

[ Roll-off to hit? I rolled a 12! ]
when_a_grids_misaligned: (consternation)

[personal profile] when_a_grids_misaligned 2024-08-18 05:41 am (UTC)(link)
[ I got an 8! ]

The stick connects; Moiré makes a noise that's half yelp of human pain, half burst of static. Desaturated dull-red blood drips from their eyebrow and oozes from a scrape on their cheek.

"Giv̴́ͅe̵̺̔-ive-ive-i̸̡͉̻͍͋̎̓̀̑v̷̧̭̣̈́͋̉͝ͅẻ̷̡͈̯̭̤̋̏-ve mė̶̥̬ that!" they snarl, grabbing wildly for the stick.
lofi_charm: (near miss)

[personal profile] lofi_charm 2024-08-18 05:53 am (UTC)(link)
Casting about wildly, Martin's breathing is heavy and labored after they crack Moiré over the head with the stick, and then he seems to freeze, shaking.

He doesn't know why he struck them. He doesn't understand. But something about the sight of blood engages an instinct imposed by the Blight, and suddenly he feels all the strength and resolve sapped from him, and his arms fall. He doesn't release the heavy branch, instead seeming to just... space out, looking off somewhere else.
when_a_grids_misaligned: (consternation)

[personal profile] when_a_grids_misaligned 2024-08-18 09:15 am (UTC)(link)
Moiré makes another grab, misses by a mile as Martin lowers the branch, and doubles over with a wheezing cough. They fizzle and distort with each hacking exhalation, leaning their hands on their knees. By the time they can catch their breath they've forgotten why their face hurts or where the smudge of blood on their glove came from.

They narrow their static-grey eyes at Martin, not sure why he's in their personal space but they're in a really bad mood for some reason. "What d̶̢̐͛ọ̷͇̽ yō̵̠͉̞͂̔u w̷͓̐a̶͈̕n̵̜̾ť̵͕?"
lofi_charm: (bored)

[personal profile] lofi_charm 2024-08-18 03:23 pm (UTC)(link)
"I want to be alone," Martin seethes quietly, the only answer he knows how to give. Drained now, he begins to stagger away. "...I was looking for something. Looking... What was it...?"
when_a_grids_misaligned: (pensive)

[personal profile] when_a_grids_misaligned 2024-08-19 05:40 am (UTC)(link)
Moiré's not going to stop him if that's what he wants. Actually they don't feel up to stopping him anyway; they're exhausted, and their whole body aches. They're just going to sit down on the front steps of the pub and take five.

"Okay, se-see-ee you lȧ̶̧͓͚̤̣̝̦͕̘̳̠̰̥́͛̾̉͊̓̉̚͜t̸̰͙͔̖̪̙̭̻̏͛ȇ̸̡̢̗̰̖̪̻͗r," they mumble into their shirt collar.