All that bloodshed, crimson clover

[sweetmod]

Characters Involved: All characters in the game
When: The month of February
What: A failed garden project and an unusual affliction
Where: Voddisson Park and the rest of Sweet Acres
Open/Closed: Game event thus open to all

Month Year Experiment

Event Questions | Full Navigation Prompt One | Prompt Two Image Descriptors Left Image: Skeletal human torso and head covered in blood surrounded by roses against a black background. Right Image: Chalk white human back with golden crack painted through the middle. Fingers holding the back of the neck against a white background. Standard Introduction We recommend reading this section if you are a brand new player to get a better understanding of game events. If you're an old hat, you can feel free to skip this section! The majority of events are experiments created by Daisy. Daisy may drastically alter the setting of Sweet Acres or alter the physiology and psychology of characters to increase the stakes of an experiment. Even characters usually resistant to manipulation and persuasion will often feel heavily compelled to participate in events. We encourage players to have fun with this: does your character feel threatened and get involved out of fear? Do they get involved without thinking twice about it? Do they feel pain through their Daze if they try to stay away from an event? Do their powers glitch as a punishment for not being involved? Some events will have specific consequences for avoiding prompts, but for the most part, ya'll get to have whatever brand of fun you want to have! Characters can alleviate symptoms or escape situations more quickly or avoid them altogether with the use of their Grounding Item. Grounding Items should be used sparingly for the sake of maintaining the consistent mood of the overall game. All character experiences are technically recorded through the Daze. Characters are being observed by an unseen Audience at all times - but especially during experiments. You can incorporate this into your scenes as well! Throw in a laugh track or audible gasping or have your character feel as though they are being watched! You don't have to ever acknowledge the Audience, but it certainly adds to another layer of terror! Audience members may offer assistance or resistance during certain experiments. back to top ⤴

[ The Garden Project ]

Summary: 🌼 Content Warnings: Forced altered state of mind, relaxation, possible vine porn if u really dream hard enough, drowning, living plants, carnivorous plants, hallucinations, life energy/water being rapidly removed, possible forced/rapid weight loss 🌼 Daisy attempts to create a proper garden in Voddisson Park and manipulates characters to visit and admire her creation. 🌼 Daisy still sucks at creating organic life and therefore the Garden Project fails spectacularly. The Garden Project becomes an extreme test of survival. 🌼 But first, the flowers make you feel a bit as though you are drunk or tripping. 🌼 If your character has plant manipulation abilities, they may be able to control some of the plants at a time, but not all and it will require more of their energy than usual. 🌼 By the end of the month, between characters working together to destroy the Garden Project along with Daisy's intervention, the Garden Project will be scorched from Sweet Acres. Best luck another time, Daisy! Toward the beginning of February, all characters will begin to feel greatly tempted to visit Voddisson Park at different intervals throughout the month. Even after they realize that Voddisson Park is probably the last place any sane person should want to visit. In your defense, the park is a sight to behold. Even as you approach, you will notice the air absolutely teeming with the sweet, succulent aroma of mixed florals: fresh freesia, jasmine, lilies, roses, and more. There are bottom notes of musk and amber, the air soaked with warm inviting notes of vanilla. While it should be too much, it's somehow a perfect blend no matter how sensitive your nose might normally be. It pulls you in, and like the scent, the flowers appear immaculate. They also don't seem to ascribe by the typical botany of our world. There are extraordinary trees of thick roses of every color, the blossoms the size of basketballs. Lilies grow several feet taller than the average person while walls of hydrangea seem to burst with buds. The flowers seem to put everyone in a giddy mood, giggly and nearly drunk on the aroma and presence of the flowers. You may start to feel drugged, the world floating around you, your body warm and relaxed. Some characters may be more impacted by this than others (per player discretion). This becomes a problem when the flowers begin to move on their own and your walk in the park suddenly becomes its own level of hell: Thick Vines creep along the ground, wrapping around your ankles and wrists, or even your waist before yanking you up toward the trees. You may just get thrashed around rather violently, or have some of your clothes torn and scuffed up, or you may just be crushed by the vines' abnormal strength. Vines can be destroyed with strong metal and/or fire and/or ice. Patches of Wet Mud are throughout the park, but you will want to avoid accidentally stepping in them. The moment you do, you will be suctioned downward, the mud clinging to you. The more you panic, the more you will sink. One must be entirely calm and then lean backward to get out of the mud pits. One can drown in these if they are not too careful. An effective means of combating mud is also ice. Red Roses seem especially popular in this park. Daisy must have seen that they were a popular plant on most earth-adjacent planets! Except she seemed to miss something about the flowers because these flowers bloom in the presence of those who have red blood pumping through their veins. You will be tempted to get close, but when you do, the blooms will spread open and reveal a voracious, fanged mouth. Roses will snatch anyone up, crunching effortlessly through clothes and bone. The roses seem to have insatiable appetites, feeding eagerly on prey, sometimes helped by the vines. The roses are surprisingly durable, seeming to repopulate like a hydra if you merely cut them down with blades. You will instead want to destroy them with fire or ice. Be careful! Once the roses get a taste for your blood, they will become even more ravenous. Poppies are in abundance and seem, at a glance, to be the most normal flowers that Daisy managed to create. But begin to walk among them and you'll find yourself collapsing to the ground, mentally confused. You will begin to hallucinate about things that make you happy, expressing these hallucinations to those around you. This might seem innocuous enough, but the poppies will eagerly be draining you of water and life energy to flourish around you. Your body will gradually begin to weaken, losing weight and seeming to shrivel up. Those with a very strong mental fortitude may be able to resist the poppy's spell and save those who are not so lucky. Poppies are easily destroyed - no different than destroying a regular flower. Dahlias sprout up here and there, and much like the poppies, they appear to be regular. However, if your body comes into contact with these things, you will find yourself filled with a strange intense urge to become violent whether it's against other people or toward the plants. The bloodlust will become nearly maddening, but you won't be content at merely killing things. You will want it to be slow and torturous. The only way to properly break this spell is for someone to shed your blood. Despite the many violent possibilities in the park, there are plenty of flowers to merely enjoy with a certain safety. Still, it won't take anyone long to realize that the more violent flowers are beginning to encroach and ruin the rest of the park. You won't have long until they go past the park and into the rest of the town. Daisy will be seen hacking away at the flowers now and again, and if you attempt to her approach her at this time, she will whip around to face you with a wide, strained eerie grin, her eyes a glaring white instead of their usual nearly infinite black. "What is it? Oh? The flowers?" she asks, "Gardening sure is hard work! Together we should be able to get this place cleared up!" Then she turns to stare up at the sky, her smile frozen, her entire body motionless. "What's that?" This time she isn't talking to you. "Of course. I won't-..." She stops, looking almost scared for a moment before she turns her attention back to you. "Sorry, Sweet Subject, but I have to go now. I'll come back later to help remove these pests. Good luck!" And just like that, she glitches out of existence. Not the most engaging conversation, but it does make one wonder... back to top ⤴

[ Not All You're Cracked Up to Be ]

Summary: 🌼 Content Warnings: Body horror, manipulation of abilities, forced honesty, forced physical and mental weakening. 🌼 Characters who feel emotionally or physically vulnerable develop golden cracks all over their body. 🌼 These cracks weaken the character's physical body and drastically weaken any abilities. It will make them more prone to being honest about things that make them feel vulnerable. 🌼 Despite this, these characters cannot die from the cracks, but they may shatter while maintaining sentience/consciousness, and another character will have to put the pieces back together. It begins at the tips of your fingers. Your skin begins to harden into a chalky white color, spreading across your arms, and up into your shoulders. The effect creeps down your back and across the rest of your body, until even your eyes and hair are white, your tongue and insides just as white. You have become something of a breathing porcelain doll, your body delicate and light. The cause of the spread starts with feelings of vulnerability. The feeling like you may not be in control of your own life like you once thought you were. Like you believed before arriving in Sweet Acres. If your past was a mere fabrication, then what about everything else? What about who you are? The kind of person you are? The things you believe? Memories are one thing, but your personality is another. Has that been fabricated too? Or perhaps you do get caught up in the memories from your "fake" life. Perhaps you're fixated on things, things you can't change, things you can't go back and fix. Because you're here now, after all, so your mistakes have been left with open ends and your dreams in limbo. What does that mean for you now? The despair of it all is easy to sink into. The deeper you go, the more delicate your body becomes, until finally, the cracks begin to appear. At a glance, they are beautiful to behold. Rivers of gold shimmering against the white, spreading over your skin like scored veins. That is when you begin to feel as vulnerable as you appear. You feel like the slightest wrong movement could turn you to dust. But you can't die: you can only break. And when you do, you'll remain completely conscious. But you'll have to put yourself back together or get someone else to help you. Thankfully, this isn't too hard as it only requires you to physically push the pieces back together, but if your body is scattered to the wind...Well, you might just end up having to be patched up by Daisy. It isn't entirely hopeless. After all, don't forget that you're being watched by a live audience. And what does a live audience love more than the drama of people opening up to one another? During this state, you will be more inclined to be surprisingly honest with those who make you feel protected and understood, and if they show support toward your vulnerability, your body will toughen up and the gold will spread. Each person's journey is unique to what they need to feel confident in, but eventually, if someone manages to make you feel supported enough, you'll turn completely gold, impervious to any physical damage for at least a week. Then the gold will melt away from your body entirely, finally leaving you as you used to be in your normal flesh and blood, but you will feel renewed and better than ever. If you fail to feel comforted by anyone, your skin will begin to crumble away toward the end of the month, eventually exposing your old body, but you will feel extremely fatigued and a bit like you have the flu. back to top ⤴

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[sweetmod]

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Ignatius "Iggy" Melville | OC | OTA

[dead_tongue]

petals
cw: drugged state of mind, saw 'vine porn if u dream hard enough' and baby I can dream

Iggy has spent much of his time in Sweet Acres just wandering around, trying to get his bearings. The environment is not what he's used to - he has lived on the coast of the Pacific Northwest his entire life, and he misses the ocean, misses the mountains. He even misses the rain. So he wanders, trying to get used to the place and to the people, not sure where the hell he should be living and what he should be doing. You can spot him at the White Elephant Shopping District pretty frequently, looking in shop windows.

Like everyone else, he is drawn to Voddisson Park. The greenery at least soothes some of his homesickness, and after spending an length of time in the park he does begin to feel drugged. Although he is more a fan of stimulants, he's not about to look down on a free high. You can find him sitting on a park bench, periodically giggling silently to himself, more than happy to share his seat.

Another time while walking through the park, he stops to admire some of the flora and does not notice the vines creeping across the ground like snakes. Lacking any powers, any combat training, and possessing the body of an art student with smoker's lungs, he is immediately dragged away, screaming.

The vines string him up amongst the branches of a large judas tree - he isn't terribly far from the earth, but that really isn't the biggest problem. He squirms amongst the pink blooms as the vines twine under his clothes, splitting them open, and begin to wrap tightly around his extremities, forcing him to hang there spreadeagled.

"Oh, fuck! I've seen this movie! Help! Somebody help me!"


doll parts
cw: body horror, non lethal dismemberment

Iggy has decided that if one must live in a sort of Truman Show nightmare, the smartest thing to do is avoid the super suburban houses. They just seem to be the creepiest choice you could make. The lovely old Victorians are a no-go, too - although Sweet Acres sure seems to be functioning on its own rules, he still thinks they're more likely to be haunted. No, Iggy gravitates to the brutalist school of architecture.

It's while he's trying to spread out in a house that looks like a couple of concrete blocks that he first begins to worry.

Iggy spent most of his life being extremely vulnerable, and it has only been in the past few years that he's stablished some sense of control over his own life. Being suddenly alone in a strange place and told that his life was a fabrication does nothing for his mental health. Outwardly he is cheerful and helpful, but in his empty home he sinks deeper and deeper into his personal existential crisis. His entire body is chalk white in no time.

He leaves the house for errands. To look at the shops. Just to walk around. (He avoids the garden now, at least.) Anyone who sees him will see the golden cracks running deeply through his porcelain flesh, shining beautifully in the sun. He isn't the type to avoid talking, so he's likely to tell you exactly what's wrong if asked.

Iggy's a graceful enough person, but it only takes one mistake - one day he trips and falls. His shocked cry is cut off when he hits the pavement and shatters into several pieces: one whole leg snaps off, one whole arm. A forearm, too.

And his head of course. That winds up in the gutter.

He could use a hand.


OOC: feel free to drop a wildcard!
Will match format - brackets or prose, it is all good!

Koby | OPLA | ota

[kobes]

i. the garden project

[The park is always nice. Koby's used to the sea -- the endless blue, the horizon stretching off into nothingness, the way the air smells and the deck moves. He misses it, every time he wakes up in the middle of the night from a nightmare or steps outside the grey house him and Mihawk have taken as their own odd quarters. But the flowers are nice enough, and the trees are a novelty after being on the ocean for so long. So the urge to visit the park isn't necessarily unusual.

But the way he feels once he's there is. Koby isn't sure how, but he finds himself sitting cross-legged among a large patch of poppies, frowning and blinking at the large, heavy orangeish blooms. One hand reaches out, strokes along the delicate petals, huffing out a soft laugh.] That's -- strange. I've never seen these before.

[And yet -- he feels like he's back, by the ocean, the sun going down, the waves rolling soft and foamy onto the sand. Koby isn't really sure what beach, if he's by a Marine base or at a port or on the island he called home as a child. All beaches were the same, regardless of whether he was trapped with Alvida's crew at some grimy dock in the middle of the East Blue, or running barefoot and careless with the other girls from the orphanage. There was always sand, warm and damp, studded with shells and seaweed and beach glass and smooth stones, plush beneath his feet, the air salt-bright and familiar.

The poppies creep in closer, twining around Koby's arms, his legs, roots starting to dig their way beneath his skin as he reaches out for a handful of sand that isn't there, much as he can feel it gritty and fine between his fingers. He...might need some help.]

ii. not all you're cracked up to be

[Honestly, Koby just thought he'd been off the sea for too long -- he's always been on the paler side, tending to burn or freckle, rather than tan beneath the constant sun out on the water. The sun in Sweet Acres is so odd, so artificially cool that he's even paler than usual these days.

Except -- nope, that's not just being pale, that's an odd sort of cool, almost stonelike quality to his skin, spreading up his fingers to his arms, smooth and alien. Koby is distracted from thoughts of home by how wrong it feels, an odd sort of tingling loss of sensation that he can't get away from, no matter how he rubs or scratches at the porcelain.

Then, the cracks -- running threads of gold, spidering over Koby's arms, his shoulders, up his neck. It'd leave him terrified, sobbing and shivering, but he just sort of feels...numb. Empty. Maybe it's the porcelain inside him, but as the cracks grow wider, spreading bright and shining and nearly beautiful, Koby just sits on a bench, hands out in front of him and...watches.

The thoughts don't stop either, the memories of home, of the choices he'd made, the ways he'd grown since Luffy rescued him, since he enlisted, since he'd finally taken control of his own life. Why would he have had an entire artificial life, a whole fake existence that was all about autonomy and making his own choices? What sort of cruel, horrific irony was that?

If anyone approaches, Koby just looks upwards at them, face blank, cool, almost serene.] You're blocking the sun.