goneawayworld | EASY LIKE SATURDAY MORNING

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EASY LIKE SATURDAY MORNING

easy like saturday morning

PLOT DESCRIPTION
Disaster strikes a small town as their Stuff storm warning system fails and their TVs mysteriously get TV signals with children's shows and commercials. Born from the imaginations of the children, Stuff beings rampage through the town. The group must face surreal versions of children's toys and cartoon characters and stop their rampage long enough to help the town evacuate to the rig.

The group must face off against threats like a kaiju Barney the Dinosaur and the terrifying Sensational Six gang - the post-apocalyptic end result of a child watching Disney while his teenage brother was reading novels from the grimdark series Deathaxer 50,000.

PROMPTS

Some towns have found ways to survive in the Wilds. The town of Providence figured out that creating some distance between Stuff and people allowed them to weather Stuff storms with very little creation of monsters, and created a system of bunkers and safe rooms where people take refuge when Stuff storms come. A thorough system of watchers, cameras, sirens, and other equipment allowed for enough warning for people to take refuge every time it's necessary.

But a strange confluence of events just happened in Providence: the warning system failed somehow, TVs caught signals from Jorgmund networks instead the local station, and a Stuff storm swept through the town just as a plethora of children's programming was broadcast. The end result is complete mayhem, as cartoons and children's show characters go on a rampage. The imagination of the children is also animating their toys, creating widespread chaos.

A massive Barney the dinosaur, at least 80 feet tall, smashes buildings, while fighting against an equally massive apatosaurus, Littlefoot's mother. A pyrokinetic Elmo throws his arms up and fires spring up in buildings behind him. Looney Toons summon anvils that people need to dodge, not realizing or caring that the rules of physics are different here. A 30-feet tall Bob the builder tries futiley to fix crumbling buildings, sobbing "Can we fix it? No we can't."

In this chaos, the people that live here are trying to escape with their lives as their town is trashed around them. They need protection from out of control toys and cartoons, as well as rescue from collapsing buildings and fires.

They need help. Either these cartoons and toys must be destroyed or the townspeople need to be safely evacuated.

a) dream house

You don't remember how you got here. There was some kind of touch to your shoulder or back by by a perfectly manicured hand and you magically zonked out, caught up in her power.

You find yourself in a beautifully-curated pink-themed home in a fluffy down duvet-covered bed. Unfortunately, you're tied to it - and the person in charge is a bizarrely-proportioned blonde woman with a sledgehammer.

She looks uncanny, like she's not quite entirely human, but not quite entirely toy, her proportions unnatural.

"I am so sorry we had to meet like this," she says perkily. "But as a meet-cute, isn't it romantic?"

It's not. It's very much not.

"You see, I had to give up on love myself. Ken and I just didn't see eye to eye," Barbie says, "And now he can't see anything."

She gestures to them both.

"But you two would make a perfect couple," she coos. "If I can't find love on my own, the next best thing is playing matchmaker! You'll make a perfect couple for my dream house."

She hefts up the hammer.

"So hold still!"

Move fast and your ankles will thank you!

But don't expect her to be easy to defeat. She's handy with that hammer. She's been a construction worker before (along with many many other professions). Knives turn away from plastic-like skin when she's stabbed, knock her head off and she'll put it back on.

She has had many faces, has the knowledge from myriad professions, and is dangerously hard to kill.

She must be stopped or she'll use her Dreamhouse of horrors to kill again.

b) canceling the apocalypse

Buildings are being destroyed left and right as the massive Barney the dinosaur, 80 feet tall, stomps through the town. A massive apatosaurus is fighting it, trying to stop it from pressing its destructive influence towards a part of town that has more residential areas.

"I can't stop him, he's too strong!" says Littlefoot's mother, as she fails to press him back. Fortunately, even though the New Hires are small, the roofs of nearby buildings provide a good vantage point to attack.

There are also people that need to be rescued from collapsing buildings, fires from broken gas mains, and falling debris.

"Super dee duper!" Barney calls out as he crashes through another building. People in the streets below run screaming.

c) lemme at 'em

One courtyard seems to have been converted to a terrible fighting match arena, where innocent people are sometimes dragged in to fight against various cartoons. Nothing fences them in but some of the brainwashed fighters, creating a wall.

All of them look miserable, like they don't want to be there. If approached, one of the champions of the arena will attack the group, begging them to leave. It might be a large squinting sailor, with massive fore-arms.

"You needs to run," begs Pop-Eye. "Or he'll make us fight as emenies whether we likes it or not!"

But whatever force is controlling Pop-Eye makes him start laughing instead. "A-gah-gah-gah-gah-gah-gah."

The mastermind behind all this? The tiny psychic Great Dane, sitting up on a high makeshift throne.

"You think you can stop me?" the pup cries, holding his hands to his temples. "Have a taste of some pupppppyyyy pooower!"

He'll use his psychic powers to direct his various assorted cartoon and children's show champions to fight against the New Hires, against their own will.

d) gak attack

Smush it, twist it, bubble it, mix it! What is Nickelodeon gak?

Usually it's not a massive green blob slowly taking over an entire block but right now it is. The blob is acidic, melting the flesh of anything living it absorbs into it, and alive enough to occasionally whip out tendrils to snag people trying to flee.

The blob can be fought with a variety of things, ranging from fire, freezing, electricity, and even caustic household chemicals that are extremely basic in nature like the lye in oven cleaner. Even a small amount can poison the blob and cause large portions of it to turn to ash.

But even those that can't fight it can use their powers and abilities to evacuate people from its path.

e) doo-dah

They're perched in many places, like actual birds. Any hostile architecture has been ripped off trees and other perching spots and thrown to the ground.

At first they're silent but any time there is movement and sound their glowing eyes snap open and and look in the direction it came from.

"Doo-dah oo-nye may-may kah doo?" they ask, and then they start to speak to each other in a call and response.

"Uh-oh." "uh-oh."

And then they attack, sailing through the air despite how they shouldn't be able to fly, razor beaks snapping. They attack the New Hires and anyone they're trying to help.

f) wild card

The chaos in Providence can take many forms: Looney Tunes dropping anvils on real people. Areas where rubber monsters wreak havoc and New Hires will now find they can transform to Power Rangers, only able to attack by calling out attack names. An area where Lamb Chop chases people with an axe. The ninja turtles needing help fighting Shredder and the Foot clan so innocent people can escape. An area where Statler and Waldorf throw shade at the New Hires' heroics from a window balcony Doooh ho ho ho ho. An area where Smurfs swarm anyone that passes by, tying them to the ground Lilliputian style, speaking to each in a language that seems to only consist of the word "Smurf." A bomb that can only be disarmed by reaching level 20 on a Bop It. ("Bop it! Twist it! Pull it!")

The only things the New Hires don't see are the main Mickey gang. They're being careful about whether or not they're seen.

For now.

OOC DETAILS
➤ Players can draw from any canon or toy as long as a PC character is currently not from that canon in game. For larger canons, like Disney, only the specific franchise can't be used. So Disney princesses are fine, but not animated Toy Story toys. For canons like Marvel, the characters are a little more recognizable across adaptations so Marvel can't be used.

➤ This is a multi-part plot. A later part will involve the Mickey gang, so the mods request they not be used.

➤ Other than those limitations, players are free to do anything they like, including creating areas where certain childhood games or cartoon physics apply. Some of the animated toys and characters will be malevolent but some will be benevolent and seeking help fighting against something dangerous.

➤ Feel free to ask questions in the question top-level below.

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Beckett is holding his own against the plastic creature, though his claws don't seem much deterrent. They dig in and tear easily enough, but the creature seems to feel no pain whatsoever, even when he rakes across her eye.

"If you're going to help, do it now!" he grunts, as she throws him into a delicate piece of pink and white plastic furniture. "This is harder than it looks!"

Barbie giggles, advancing with torn face and outstretched, stiff-jointed arms.

"What a stubborn thing you are," she says cheerfully. "Don't worry, we'll get that bad attitude sorted out. With a little dreamhouse magic!" She swings again, catching Beckett hard in the jaw. It doesn't break anything, but it does sting like the dickens.

"You awful pink bitch - " he snarls. His eyes glow - he leaps - and then he rips her head off with a sick plastic pop.

But her body keeps moving.

"Oh, dat's jus' not on."

Still, it only takes a moment for Remy to get a better angle, vaulting over the bed so he can throw the 'coins' in her chest. By now, Beckett probably has the idea to look away when then explode, sending bits of plastic flying and filling the room with the scent of burning plastic.

And Barbie's head starts screaming because, apparently, separating the head from the body doesn't actually STOP it.

Which has him weighing up a few things. His continued mental health against getting out of here safely? "T'ink we can make a run for it yet?"

Beckett does manage to throw his arm up in time. A few pieces of flying plastic embed themselves through his sleeve. Fie. He'll be picking those out for ages.

"Just a - " He grapples with the headless body's arms, digging in. " - moment, and I can - "

"No!" the head shrieks from somewhere on the carpet. "Not this time!"

Beckett is formulating a witty response when Barbie's hands clamp down around his wrists with sudden, inhuman force, lifting him from the floor as if he were a ragdoll. He rips at her wrists, but a thing with no muscle and nerve can grip as long as it has hands, and even his claws don't cut that fast. She has him by the neck now, and starts to squeeze - oh, good, she's not aware he isn't technically alive. Still, it's an unfortunate position.

"What a rude, nasty little man you are," the head fumes. "I'm going to have to punish you, mister!"

Some kind of energy gathers in her free hand, pink and malevolent. Beckett claws and kicks, suddenly on a deadline as it swirls into a glittery, sinister sphere.

Edited 2020-07-05 23:32 (UTC)

And there it is. Plans B-E go out the window.

Plan F it is.

It's been a personal nightmare for years. Nightmare enough that he put himself in the hands of Sinister to make sure he couldn't harm people. Not directly.

Remy doesn't let himself think about it, though. If he does, he'll freeze up and the other guy will end up dead. (Deader, but he doesn't know that.) He runs for the head, praying to a God he hasn't believed in in years that this works. He scoops it up, closing his eyes. "Sorry, Barbie. We jus' ain't up for dis kin'a party."

Then he charges her head and throws it out the window of the dreamhouse. Where it explodes with a scream that is definitely not his powers.

Life in plastic. Maybe not so fantastic.

Beckett manages to land with dignity as Barbie's body abruptly lets go and topples over. He straightens himself, brushing off his clothes and feeling gingerly around his jaw and ribs. Nothing a bit of blood won't cure.

"Good god," he mutters. He'd understood the orientation and the briefing well enough, but - well, seeing is believing. Insofar as he's certain he can trust his senses, anyway, which he's really beginning to question. Hazimel had sustained an illusory world for weeks, though the situation at the moment seemed more Malkavian than anything else. A sufficiently ancient kindred could have had a hand in this, but - why? It didn't fit any of the patterns. So what appears to be happening, likely is what actually is happening.

What an incredibly uncomforting thought.

"Thank you," he says, turning to his ally of the moment. "I take it you're also involved in this - Jorgmund situation?"

It still takes a moment for Remy to get himself sorted out, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. She wasn't technically alive, just human shaped.

By the time the other man has himself righted, Remy has any worries stuffed down into a box and shoved to the back of his mind with the rest of the stuff he doesn't think about. Which is why he can turn around with a bemused expression.

"Jorgmund situation?" It takes a moment before he grimaces. "Ah, oui. Dat I am. Reckon mos' of us dat are runnin' toward de trouble 'round here are. An' you're welcome."

"Well. I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but circumstances being what they are..." Beckett makes a vague gesture to their surroundings. "My name is Beckett. What might I call you?"

Given that what appears to be happening also appears to actually be happening, he may as well take the initiative. A loner he may be, but he's not a fool. The fellow can blow things up with his mind, which is not to be scoffed at in a war zone.

"Mebbe de pleasure is in not bein' alone to deal wit' all dis?" Remy shakes his head, tugging down the wrists of his coat. Because it's something to do with his hands at the moment before he nods. "Gambit in dese t'reads. Remy when we're back on de Rig."

Because he's a superhero. Or does his best. And it's not really a name he's given out much here.

"Ah, fair enough." Beckett chuckles in the manner of someone who is mildly condescending by nature even when they're making an earnest effort. "Gambit, then. I will confess, most of the briefing was - incoherent. Do you suppose there's an epicenter to all this?"

Honestly, he's definitely been condescended to enough to be able to tell when it's happening. But Remy also knows to pick his battles and there's enough going on not to make a fuss about it.

"Wouldn' be s'prsied to know dat dere's an epicenter, really. I mean, there's gotta be someplace where all dis is comin' from, hein?" He glances at the headless body on the floor and shakes his head. "T'ink mebbe dis is a conversation best taken outside."

Beckett follows his gaze, puzzled for half a moment before he puts together Gambit's objection. Ah, mortals. It's not even a real body. Still.

"Of course." He steps over to the door and listens at it for a moment, straining his senses a little farther than most could manage. Not as far as he's normally capable of - the gifts of the blood work oddly here, when they work at all - but it he's confident the coast is clear.

"I believe it's safe," he remarks, and opens the door to yet another sin against aesthetics and good taste. It's vast, white, pink and plastic, like some sort of hastily-assembled parody of Versailles. He stares in fascination at what appears to be a bit of plastic sticking from a joint not properly molded or filed down. Beckett's not a Toreador, and doesn't even like them very much, but sometimes he really sees their point.

He'd seen weirder bodies left behind. And, no matter what, she'd still been sentient. It's still awkward for him.

Remy follows him out of the room, pausing a moment to stare as well. Just a beat, maybe two.

Then. "Well. Dis is a Barbie Nightmare."

He makes his way further into the room, brown and black definitely standing out in the surroundings. Though the flashes of magenta possibly fit in a bit better. "Gotta be a door out. Could be prudent to fin' it."

Beckett blinks rapidly, adjusting as best he can to the relentless pastel palace. He moves through cautiously, content to let Gambit go first. They pass what looks like a kitchen, though the cabinets are fused shut and ring hollowly when thumped. Beckett opens the fridge, curious.

"Oh my."

Ken's head is sitting in the middle shelf, gazing up in a vacant scream. The right side is caved in, as if pressed by some giant, mutilating thumb, and his painted eyes and mouth are distorted in a silent scream. His limbs are stacked neatly beside him, arms on the left and legs on the right. The torso lies underneath.

Beckett shuts the door.

"Nothing of interest. Let's move on."

Remy glances between Beckett, the door, then back to Beckett, a calculating look in his eyes. One that is accompanied by a raised eyebrow, but no movement to check the door.

Apparently willing to trust Beckett that it's not relevant, at least.

"Should be a door 'round here...ah-ha." It's not that hard to find, really. It's the door leading outside without even plastic window panes in it. He goes to pull it open, then pauses when it doesn't. "I didn' even know dese t'ings could be locked," he murmurs, crouching down to look at the door knob, then the hinges.

After a few moments, a playing card appears in his hand. Where from? Who knows? He slides the card between the door and the frame, settling it against the locking mechanism before charging the card and turning away. It's only a small charge, but some of the plastic around the door is blown away, hitting his coat harmlessly.

When Remy looks back, the door is wide open. "Well den. What say we get outta here?"

"I think it's a capital idea." Beckett steps through first, senses on alert, and almost welcomes the wall of noise and chaos that hits him as soon as he exits the forced serenity of Barbie's hellhouse. He surveys the horizon, watching the two cartoon dinosaurs clash in the distance. Cowboy yells echo in the distance; a flock of blocky, brightly-colored robots soar over and occasionally into the nearby buildings. And the screaming. Lots of screaming.

"...makes a body miss Jerusalem," he mutters.

"Gonna take more dan dis to make me miss Israel." And it was...well, Remy's seen the end of the world a few times. Some of them were louder than this. "Guessin' de way to find de center is jus' to follow de loudest screamin'."

"As sound a hypothesis as any." Beckett starts off. "Where are you from, if I might ask? Is it true that we're mostly from - different realities?"

Remy takes a few moments, listening to try figuring out what direction they need to be headed in. "New Orleans, originally, though I've been livin' in New York for de las' several years."

Though the accent certainly hasn't budged.

"An' yeah, seem to be so far. I got one person from my world dat I know 'bout here, but mos' people seem to be from elsewhere." He glances over at Beckett. "'Sumin', of course, dat we ain't all jus' made of Stuff an' we only t'ink we're all from somewhere else."

"Yes, there's a young person from my - world, I suppose - wandering about. Odd young man. I was born in Oxford, but I haven't lived there in some time."

About four hundred years, but who's counting? He represses a shudder at Gambit's next suggestion.

"Yes, well, isn't the... Stuff," his pain at this incredibly undignified terminology is blatant, "influenced by thought and imagination? I can't speak for you, of course, but I have memories of a long and detailed personal history, which to my line of thinking means I'm either real or a piece of fiction with enough depth to recall my mother's maiden name. That would tend to indicate a degree of fame that would make me recognizable to natives of this reality." He's pretty clearly pleased with this piece of reasoning. "Since no one's asked for my autograph as of yet, I feel reasonable safe concluding I'm entirely un-fictional. Unless I was written by a shut in, I suppose."

Edited 2020-07-27 00:21 (UTC)

"Well, if I'm fictional, I got a piece of mind to give somebody." Even if it wouldn't be the weirdest thing he's ever run into. Because being with the X-Men was weird. Being with the Thieves' Guild managed to be even weirder. "Anyway, better off not givin' anybody an existential crisis if we can avoid it. Includin' m'self."

He starts heading in the direction of the most screams, though. "What sorta stuff you got y'self famous for?"

"Apologies, I was unclear. What I meant was, if I am a fictional character brought to life by the collective unconscious of a world afflicted by living dreams and unstable reality," he sounds way too cheerful, "I'm one that they've managed to bring to life in great detail. Which would tend to imply I'm well-known, and someone from hereabouts would have recognized me and spilled the proverbial beans."

Beckett manages not flinch as they step out of the shade of Barbie's Dreamhouse into the full light of day, but only just. He's barely had two days to adjust to this - well, gift, he supposes - and looking up to see a blue sky and smiling sun (literally smiling, there's a toddler's face on it, which doesn't help) makes his Beast quiver in terrified unease.

He notes the truly corpselike pallor of his hands with some dismay before he shoves them in his pockets to saunter onwards, letting his new companion take the lead.

"In my regular life, I rather try to avoid the limelight - for all the good it's done me."

It's not like Remy's a fan of the full daylight, either. He pauses once they're outside, patting down the duster before reaching into an inner pocket to pull out a pair of sunglasses. Though he also pauses when he looks up at that sun, then mutters something disparaging about kid's television in French before shaking his head and starting to move through the area they've found themselves in.

Which is...less residential than the Dreamhouse would have led one to believe. "De same, really. Me, I like de 'tention. But 's a lot easier to do de t'ings I do wit'out it, neh?"

"It certainly is." Beckett smirks a little, not at Gambit; at a memory, or rather, several of them. "Unfortunately, when you have a distinctive look and a penchant for trouble..."

He gives a one-armed shrug, looking the other man over. "I think you understand?" he asks, peering over the top of his own sunglasses with his own supernaturally red eyes.

"And what were you saying about children's television? Do you recognize any of this? That creature back there was some sort of doll, wasn't she?"

The look over the edge of the sunglasses gets a half smile out of Remy. "Oui. Jus' might have an idea at dat." Not that he hadn't spent most of his childhood being chased out of places because of his eyes.

The 'penchant for trouble' had come later. Somewhat later, at least.

"Recognize some of it," Remy admits as they start moving. "De doll was Barbie. Never was much of one for dolls m'self, but my ex-wife used to decapitate dem as practice when she was little." Belle was a scary woman, after all. And had been a very scary child, too. "De rest of dis is...oui. All jus' stuff dat I 'member from TV when I was little."

"Barbie, hmm?" And a childhood spent with the sort of girl who practices dolly decapitation. The fellow clearly isn't standard issue human, but perhaps the differences run deeper then Beckett might suppose. The eyes could certainly mark revenant ancestry... except no, there's sorts from all over trapped here, aren't there? Could be anything, really. But interesting that his physical difference should bear such a striking resemblance to a common Beast-mark...

Beckett swallows down the bubble of invasive and personal questions trying to climb out his throat. Later. They're all stuck here for the moment, after all.

"I predate television by, hmm, some time, but I do remember when it first arrived on the scene," he reminisces, instead. "Started quite a panic, too; however could anyone keep secrets when perfect images could be broadcast hundreds of miles at a thought? In hindsight, they were rather overstating it. A pity."

Truth be told, it had been one of his bigger disappointments. He'd been rooting for the humans, even with the risk of a New Inquisition.

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