Universal Remote [Open to All]

[applesaucemod]

Here's an interesting scene: the dreamers of Manhattan are on a pirate ship. Or perhaps they're standing in a busy ER, wearing scrubs and holding a scalpel they may or may not know how to use. Or perhaps they've found themselves in the middle of a world cup championship game, or an old-fashioned highway robbery, or an interstellar dogfight, or a dramatic, 'unscripted' showdown between arguably attractive people they've never seen before in their lives.

Whatever the situation, rest assured: it probably won't last long.

Maybe the Rift is bored. That might explain why the dream keeps changing, as if someone were idly flicking through the channels and switching up the genre. The poor dreamers are just along for the ride, the only constant amidst a shifting array of scenery, clothing, and overall mood. Perhaps, if things are sufficiently interesting, the dream might settle a little to see how things play out. But given the Rift's definition of 'interesting,' that might not be a good thing for whoever is providing the entertainment.

[OOC: the usual dream party rules apply. All are welcome, regardless of whether they're in the game or not. Dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. Dreamers' clothes may change to reflect whatever scene they're in, but their memories and personalities will remain intact... though the overall mood of the setting might influence their mood, as well. Feel free to throw NPCs into whatever scene you find yourself in, with bonus points added if said characters treat the dreamers as if they're established parts of the 'canon.']

Comments

[fucking_ebay]

For a second Peter has the ludicrous thought that Daniel is telling him up, as in climb up that tree, but as he looks up the twisted shape of a likely candidate he sees --

"Fuck!" he exclaims, and veers away, though the forest is thick enough that it has no trouble adjusting its own course to follow. They're going to die. They're going to die in these horrible fucking woods and he doesn't even know what the hell it is that's going to kill them.

[peacefulexplorer]

If he'd had the presence of mind to demand what the hell the thing is between panicked gasps, he would have - but the only instruction locked in his brain is the single-minded fixation in getting as far as humanly possible from that thing.

Unfortunately, the thing in question has other plans. Skeletal fingers lock tight around his ankle and unbalance him with a fierce jerk. Daniel skids into the leaf mulch with a muffled grunt that quickly turns into a horrified yelp as the sharp tugging movement to his legs just keeps going, dragging him back and away and into the pitch-dark woods with an inhuman speed. He grapples uselessly at the ground, fingers shredding through leaves and twigs and catching on roots, but there's no purchase, nothing for him to latch onto. The trees blur into brown-gray linear streaks. His glasses are gone. The last thing of which he's fully cognizant is the sickening crack of his head smashing into one of the passing trunks, and then silence.