From 97c423db5f201eec5022640c30a0736242bef587 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DoctorBoomstick <102766473+DoctorBoomstick@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Sun, 2 Jul 2023 15:57:37 +0200 Subject: [PATCH 01/18] fixes merge errors. --- data/mods/MindOverMatter/README.md | 102 ++++++++++++++--------------- 1 file changed, 51 insertions(+), 51 deletions(-) diff --git a/data/mods/MindOverMatter/README.md b/data/mods/MindOverMatter/README.md index 693265f731680..ffff8e34c43a1 100644 --- a/data/mods/MindOverMatter/README.md +++ b/data/mods/MindOverMatter/README.md @@ -1,52 +1,52 @@ -# Mind Over Matter -A Psionics mod for Cataclysm: Dark Days Ahead - -This mod adds (currently) seven separate psionic power paths to Cataclysm, including: - -1) Biokinesis - Control of the body. Biokinetics can become stronger and faster than an ordinary human, and even change their form in limited ways. (starting profession: Star Athlete) -2) Clairsentience - Extending the senses beyond the body. Clairsentients can see in the dark and through walls, and eventually gain a bird's eye view of their surroundings, as well as perform in combat by anticipating their enemies' movements. (starting profession: Doomseer) -3) Pyrokinesis - Manipulating fire and heat. Pyrokinetics can start fires and protect themselves from heat, and even cover their whole body in raging flames to discourage attack (starting profession: Firestarter) -4) Telekinesis - Moving objects at a distance. Telekinetics can pull objects to them and hurl their enemies away, and even collapse buildings or shield themselves with a barrier of telekinetic force. (starting profession: Test Subject, Project ONYX LIGHTNING) -5) Telepathy - Control of the mind. Telepaths can become more persuasive and shield their presence from their enemies, and a powerful one can seize control of their enemies' minds. (starting profession: Government Interrogater (DECEASED)) -6) Teleportation - Moving without crossing the intervening distance. Teleporters can escape danger and move quickly, and at higher levels they can travel long distances across the ravaged earth or hurl their enemies away to the space between dimensions. (starting profession: Itzcuauhtli Corps Liaison, Yohualli Èhecatl Division) -7) Vitakinesis - Control of health and injury. Vitakinetics can bind their own wounds and speed healing, eventually recovering from even near-crippling injuries. (starting profession: Faith Healer) - -If you would like a random power path, pick the profession "Awakening Psion." - -The goal is for each path to be upgraded through usage, since sitting and studying a book for hours doesn't really fit the fiction of improving psychic powers. Powers are gained progressively, with increasing mastery of lower-tier powers unlocking new ones. Powers are based on a new skill called "metaphysics" which you can learn through recipes found from appropriate books in the world. - -ADVANTAGES - -1) Psionic powers are fast. Many powers take less than 100 moves to use, with high-level powers sometimes taking much less (a level 10 Telekinetic Hand takes only 10 moves!), reflecting that they are as fast as thought. - -2) Powers use Stamina as their power source, meaning that a fully-charged psychic is only a five-minute breather away. -3) Powers are generally very quiet (generally. Pyrokinesis is very loud) - -DISADVANTAGES - -1) Powers use Stamina as their power source. This is also a disadvantage because every power use reduces your ability to run away. -2) All powers require concentration and thus are affected by Focus. It's very difficult to concentrate enough to lift a pursuing boomer if you've just fought off a grappler in close range and there's blood all around you. - -3) Long-term power use is debilitating--powers have a chance to cause Drain, which will gradually reduce your maximum Stamina, Strength, Dexterity, and Perception as well as make you hungry and tired. Drain goes away naturally on its own with rest. (I would have used weariness but that's impossible) - -LORE - -When the government began noticing that some XEDRA explorers of alternate dimensions returned with anomalous capabilities, Project PHAVIAN was founded to study these in full. Within the year, this led to the discover of latent psychic powers in a portion of humanity. On Earth these were minor, almost trivial--the ability to always find your lost keys or know the next sentence someone is going to say moments before they do are useful powers but not lifechanging--but exposure to extra-dimensional energy seemed to increase psionic power. A PHAVIAN test subject who on Earth could manipulate a quarter to make sure it always landed heads up could sometimes throw large objects on the other side of a portal, or even lift a person. Soon after, it was discovered that specific crystalline formations found in extra-dimensional locations had the effect of amplifying psionic power even further, and that exposure to these crystals could awaken powers in previously mundane individuals. - -Soon after that, the world ended. The weakening of dimensional barriers has made psionic power much stronger on Earth, but there's no longer anyone around to conduct any experiments on it. It's just one more method that survivors use in the wake of the Cataclysm. - -GAINING POWERS - -The easiest way to gain psionics is to pick a profession that starts with them (or debug them in). There are also some strange crystals you might find in places with a strong connection with the Nether, or which are carried by psychic ferals. Or you could walk out into a portal storm unprotected. - -Listen to the voices. - -Bathe in the energies of the Nether. - -We have such sights to show you. - -WAIT, STAMINA? - -I realize it's a bit counterintuitive that taking Indefatiguable or mutating mouse will make you a better psychic, but this was the best solution I could think of for compatibility. There's no way to implement cooldowns for individual powers and I don't want to use mana and make it regenerate very fast for psychics because that breaks compatibility with every single magic mod out there. Fatigue or Weariness would also fit but it's not currently possible to use Fatigue as a spell power source without adding a custom extra effect for every single power, and not possible to interact with Weariness at all, so until that's an option or there's a way to make a custom power pool, Stamina it is. - +# Mind Over Matter +A Psionics mod for Cataclysm: Dark Days Ahead + +This mod adds (currently) seven separate psionic power paths to Cataclysm, including: + +1) Biokinesis - Control of the body. Biokinetics can become stronger and faster than an ordinary human, and even change their form in limited ways. (starting profession: Star Athlete) +2) Clairsentience - Extending the senses beyond the body. Clairsentients can see in the dark and through walls, and eventually gain a bird's eye view of their surroundings, as well as perform in combat by anticipating their enemies' movements. (starting profession: Doomseer) +3) Pyrokinesis - Manipulating fire and heat. Pyrokinetics can start fires and protect themselves from heat, and even cover their whole body in raging flames to discourage attack (starting profession: Firestarter) +4) Telekinesis - Moving objects at a distance. Telekinetics can pull objects to them and hurl their enemies away, and even collapse buildings or shield themselves with a barrier of telekinetic force. (starting profession: Test Subject, Project ONYX LIGHTNING) +5) Telepathy - Control of the mind. Telepaths can become more persuasive and shield their presence from their enemies, and a powerful one can seize control of their enemies' minds. (starting profession: Government Interrogater (DECEASED)) +6) Teleportation - Moving without crossing the intervening distance. Teleporters can escape danger and move quickly, and at higher levels they can travel long distances across the ravaged earth or hurl their enemies away to the space between dimensions. (starting profession: Itzcuauhtli Corps Liaison, Yohualli Èhecatl Division) +7) Vitakinesis - Control of health and injury. Vitakinetics can bind their own wounds and speed healing, eventually recovering from even near-crippling injuries. (starting profession: Faith Healer) + +If you would like a random power path, pick the profession "Awakening Psion." + +The goal is for each path to be upgraded through usage, since sitting and studying a book for hours doesn't really fit the fiction of improving psychic powers. Powers are gained progressively, with increasing mastery of lower-tier powers unlocking new ones. Powers are based on a new skill called "metaphysics" which you can learn through recipes found from appropriate books in the world. + +ADVANTAGES + +1) Psionic powers are fast. Many powers take less than 100 moves to use, with high-level powers sometimes taking much less (a level 10 Telekinetic Hand takes only 10 moves!), reflecting that they are as fast as thought. + +2) Powers use Stamina as their power source, meaning that a fully-charged psychic is only a five-minute breather away. +3) Powers are generally very quiet (generally. Pyrokinesis is very loud) + +DISADVANTAGES + +1) Powers use Stamina as their power source. This is also a disadvantage because every power use reduces your ability to run away. +2) All powers require concentration and thus are affected by Focus. It's very difficult to concentrate enough to lift a pursuing boomer if you've just fought off a grappler in close range and there's blood all around you. + +3) Long-term power use is debilitating--powers have a chance to cause Drain, which will gradually reduce your maximum Stamina, Strength, Dexterity, and Perception as well as make you hungry and tired. Drain goes away naturally on its own with rest. (I would have used weariness but that's impossible) + +LORE + +When the government began noticing that some XEDRA explorers of alternate dimensions returned with anomalous capabilities, Project PHAVIAN was founded to study these in full. Within the year, this led to the discover of latent psychic powers in a portion of humanity. On Earth these were minor, almost trivial--the ability to always find your lost keys or know the next sentence someone is going to say moments before they do are useful powers but not lifechanging--but exposure to extra-dimensional energy seemed to increase psionic power. A PHAVIAN test subject who on Earth could manipulate a quarter to make sure it always landed heads up could sometimes throw large objects on the other side of a portal, or even lift a person. Soon after, it was discovered that specific crystalline formations found in extra-dimensional locations had the effect of amplifying psionic power even further, and that exposure to these crystals could awaken powers in previously mundane individuals. + +Soon after that, the world ended. The weakening of dimensional barriers has made psionic power much stronger on Earth, but there's no longer anyone around to conduct any experiments on it. It's just one more method that survivors use in the wake of the Cataclysm. + +GAINING POWERS + +The easiest way to gain psionics is to pick a profession that starts with them (or debug them in). There are also some strange crystals you might find in places with a strong connection with the Nether, or which are carried by psychic ferals. Or you could walk out into a portal storm unprotected. + +Listen to the voices. + +Bathe in the energies of the Nether. + +We have such sights to show you. + +WAIT, STAMINA? + +I realize it's a bit counterintuitive that taking Indefatiguable or mutating mouse will make you a better psychic, but this was the best solution I could think of for compatibility. There's no way to implement cooldowns for individual powers and I don't want to use mana and make it regenerate very fast for psychics because that breaks compatibility with every single magic mod out there. Fatigue or Weariness would also fit but it's not currently possible to use Fatigue as a spell power source without adding a custom extra effect for every single power, and not possible to interact with Weariness at all, so until that's an option or there's a way to make a custom power pool, Stamina it is. + Weariness is still my goal here, but until it's possible to use it in spells Drain (described above) is the substitute. \ No newline at end of file From 4bbe44fac1fde139cc8b44782500b78b6c70ead3 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DoctorBoomstick <102766473+DoctorBoomstick@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Wed, 6 Mar 2024 08:03:29 +0100 Subject: [PATCH 02/18] adds the trubbled sleaper trait, the starting work on the nightmares eoc, and 2 nightmares. --- data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json | 13 +++++++++++++ data/json/mutations/mutations.json | 9 +++++++++ data/json/snippets/nightmares.json | 10 ++++++++++ 3 files changed, 32 insertions(+) diff --git a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json index 271a39fb61e85..9c6affb236bf1 100644 --- a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json +++ b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json @@ -5,6 +5,19 @@ "//": "used to prevent multiple dreams at the same sleep", "effect": [ { "math": [ "dream_counter", "=", "0" ] } ] }, + { + "type": "effect_on_condition", + "id": "EOC_GIVE_NIGHTMARES", + "eoc_type": "EVENT", + "required_event": "character_wakes_up", + "condition": { "and": [ { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, { "math": [ "dream_counter", "==", "0" ] } ] }, + "effect": [ + { "u_message": "nightmares_cataclysm_general", "snippet": true, "popup": true, "type": "bad" }, + { "u_add_morale": "morale_nightmare", "bonus": [ -15, -30 ], "max_bonus": -30 }, + { "math": [ "dream_counter", "=", "1" ] }, + { "queue_eocs": "EOC_RESET_DREAM_COUNTER", "time_in_future": 1 } + ] + }, { "type": "effect_on_condition", "id": "EOC_GIVE_NIGHTMARES", diff --git a/data/json/mutations/mutations.json b/data/json/mutations/mutations.json index 04dbfc163f55a..8e66e7dd7ef67 100644 --- a/data/json/mutations/mutations.json +++ b/data/json/mutations/mutations.json @@ -9743,5 +9743,14 @@ "starting_trait": true, "valid": false, "no_cbm_on_bp": [ "torso", "head", "eyes", "mouth", "arm_l", "arm_r", "hand_l", "hand_r", "leg_l", "leg_r", "foot_l", "foot_r" ] + }, + { + "type": "mutation", + "id": "bad_dreams", + "name": { "str": "Troubled Sleep" }, + "points": 1, + "description": "Disturbing events tend to stick to your psyche, and the collapse of society probably qualifies as the most traumatic event in your life. When you strive for the release of sleep, your dreams will be plagued by your recollections. It seems like not even slumber can rest you from your fear.", + "starting_trait": true, + "valid": false } ] diff --git a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json index 8cef539be5442..75b1e83a43b23 100644 --- a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json +++ b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json @@ -49,5 +49,15 @@ "You flee in a panic into a nearby school bathroom. Mr. ____, he was chasing you. You had your doubts but now you were sure. As you try your best to calm your ragged breathing, you rush into an unlocked stall to hide. The proof was right here. Every wall of the stall was covered in soulless eyes. They were painted. Except for one. One of the eyes was hollow. It was used as a cover to hide a hole leading to the next-door stall. Mr. ____ would secretly spy on the students. You had evidence of his misdemeanor. You frantically message your friends with the footage, asking them to contact the authorities. You tell them you are not in a position to call them yourself. Suddenly, you look up, and find Mr. ____ staring at you as he climbs down from the locked stall door. You wake up screaming, still reeling from the nightmare.", "You hear a voice in the distance proclaiming that the Son of Man would soon arrive. It was the one we had all been waiting for, for so long. You smile in quiet rapture as angels start descending from Heaven. Up above, seated upon a golden throne, brighter than the Sun, and more mysterious than the Moon, you see a blinding white light. As you shed tears of infinite bliss, you peer deeper into the luminous source out of curiosity, and see… horns? You are startled awake by the revelation." ] + }, + { + "type": "snippet", + "category": "nightmares_cataclysm_general", + "//": "Nightmare snippets for players with the troubled sleep trait that only recount recollections, dreams, and fabricated memories that anyone, regardless of profession, could have had as a result of the Cataclysm. Anything profession-dependent should be placed in an appropriate category.", + "//2": "While these can and should stray into the realm of impossibility, for example, a player seeing their dream from the perspective of a zombie, they should be related to things the character might have seen, feared, or heard during the Cataclysm. E.g., having the player in the body of a zombie as they get gunned down by soldiers is fine, but having a dream about falling from an aeroplane into water infested by clowns isn’t suitable for this category.", + "text": [ + "Still reposed in sleep, a whimper escapes your throat as a dream encroaches upon your mind.\n\nUndulating plumes of mist coil about you as you find yourself staggering through the haze — a flowing wall of silvery grey struck through with black. Underfoot, splintered shards of asphalt slice at your bare soles, your steps growing more sodden and sticky as each tread peals flesh and blood froths from the openings. While agonising, it is nothing to the raw throbbing at your abdomen, the skin of your belly hanging open like the lapels of an undone jacket, pale coils of intestine spilling forth. Between your clenched fists, a stretch of gut hangs from the opening, its end leading into the mist ahead like a guiding thread that you follow, and you do your best to pile back within yourself as you shuffle along.\n\nStaggering down the street’s broken remains, a flicker of recognition whispers at the back of your mind as you hobble between the towering hulks of recked vehicles that loom in the fog to either side, your guiding line occasionally requiring you to collapse upon hands and knees and crawl under a car. Following the last such obstacle, as you rise, your shredded foot slides from beneath you, and you collapse — the gathered bundle of organs you’d managed to stuff back within yourself cascading forth. As your cheeks grow damp, you look up from the mess of splintered roadwork and throbbing guts — up — at the looming, sprawling bulk of a partly collapsed homestead that rises from the fog before you.\n\nThrough the mist, you can see the pallid coils that compose the structure and the shuffling, anthropomorphic figures wandering within, glistening wetly. As you watch, one of the humanoids wobbles from a sagging aperture and stands, its oblong head (composed of layer upon layer of coiled white strands) turning to face you. Under your prone body, your intestines pulsate. The facsimile of your form pulsates in unison. The copy of your home pulses in unison.\n\nYou scream.", + "As the arms of a fresh dream embrace your mind, your expression contorts in sleep.\n\nMoss-infested walls enclose a cavernous space floored by steel-plated platforms bulging with veins of rust; goosebumps spread across your flesh as cold water drizzles upon you from the perforated roof overhead. A low, thrumming cadence drones in your ears, vibrating through the steel underfoot — the humming of some monstrous, unseen motor at work powering the mechanism that stretches before you. Trundling from an aperture at the room’s right and grinding past you, a massive conveyor belt groans along; it’s rubber tread Layden with a row of neatly placed bodies. As they’re born along, you find yourself recognising pallid faces, staring eyes, gaping maws, and bruised flesh forming facsimiles of people you’d encountered during the last days of evacuation: refugees, soldiers, and relief workers.\n\nAs the corpses reach the end of the line and are unceremoniously dumped upon the floor, their limbs contort, cracking noises punctuating the air over the grinding of the belt as they start to flail and wriggle across the steel, worming towards you. Writhing and slithering across one another, they crawl in a loop about you, your stomach churning as the sounds of stretching flesh fill your ears as their necks stretch forth, lifting their heads level with your own as though they’re some manner of human sauropod. As growing numbers of blood-shot eyes fixate upon you and a forest of extending necks cocoons you, each head jabbers out a singular, unique word: a discordant muddle of phrases that grows more coherent with each body that joins the assembly.\n\n\"are all escaped; you When up, we\"\n\n\"We are all escaped; you left When you up, we\"\n\n\"We are all you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will be there.\"" + ] } ] From 61f89dce425f48ba179f2eece2470b6d1d09f9ad Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DoctorBoomstick <102766473+DoctorBoomstick@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Thu, 7 Mar 2024 10:50:33 +0100 Subject: [PATCH 03/18] Hooks in the capability to prevent nightmares from triggering if the player takes anti-depressants --- data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json | 10 ++++++++-- data/json/mutations/mutations.json | 6 +++--- data/json/snippets/nightmares.json | 3 ++- 3 files changed, 13 insertions(+), 6 deletions(-) diff --git a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json index 9c6affb236bf1..47b652a026588 100644 --- a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json +++ b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json @@ -7,10 +7,16 @@ }, { "type": "effect_on_condition", - "id": "EOC_GIVE_NIGHTMARES", + "id": "EOC_TROUBLED_SLEEP_NIGHTMARES", "eoc_type": "EVENT", "required_event": "character_wakes_up", - "condition": { "and": [ { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, { "math": [ "dream_counter", "==", "0" ] } ] }, + "condition": { + "and": [ + { "math": [ "dream_counter", "==", "0" ] }, + { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, + { "not": { "u_has_effect": "took_prozac" } } + ] + }, "effect": [ { "u_message": "nightmares_cataclysm_general", "snippet": true, "popup": true, "type": "bad" }, { "u_add_morale": "morale_nightmare", "bonus": [ -15, -30 ], "max_bonus": -30 }, diff --git a/data/json/mutations/mutations.json b/data/json/mutations/mutations.json index 8e66e7dd7ef67..5834d23ac02bb 100644 --- a/data/json/mutations/mutations.json +++ b/data/json/mutations/mutations.json @@ -9747,9 +9747,9 @@ { "type": "mutation", "id": "bad_dreams", - "name": { "str": "Troubled Sleep" }, - "points": 1, - "description": "Disturbing events tend to stick to your psyche, and the collapse of society probably qualifies as the most traumatic event in your life. When you strive for the release of sleep, your dreams will be plagued by your recollections. It seems like not even slumber can rest you from your fear.", + "name": { "str": "Troubled Sleeper" }, + "points": -2, + "description": "Disturbing events tend to stick to your psyche, and the cataclysm has left you with more than your fair share of psychological trauma. Now, not even slumber can rest you from your fears; nightmares will plague your sleep if you don’t keep them at bay with anti-depressants.", "starting_trait": true, "valid": false } diff --git a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json index 75b1e83a43b23..a2d417ce4f562 100644 --- a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json +++ b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json @@ -57,7 +57,8 @@ "//2": "While these can and should stray into the realm of impossibility, for example, a player seeing their dream from the perspective of a zombie, they should be related to things the character might have seen, feared, or heard during the Cataclysm. E.g., having the player in the body of a zombie as they get gunned down by soldiers is fine, but having a dream about falling from an aeroplane into water infested by clowns isn’t suitable for this category.", "text": [ "Still reposed in sleep, a whimper escapes your throat as a dream encroaches upon your mind.\n\nUndulating plumes of mist coil about you as you find yourself staggering through the haze — a flowing wall of silvery grey struck through with black. Underfoot, splintered shards of asphalt slice at your bare soles, your steps growing more sodden and sticky as each tread peals flesh and blood froths from the openings. While agonising, it is nothing to the raw throbbing at your abdomen, the skin of your belly hanging open like the lapels of an undone jacket, pale coils of intestine spilling forth. Between your clenched fists, a stretch of gut hangs from the opening, its end leading into the mist ahead like a guiding thread that you follow, and you do your best to pile back within yourself as you shuffle along.\n\nStaggering down the street’s broken remains, a flicker of recognition whispers at the back of your mind as you hobble between the towering hulks of recked vehicles that loom in the fog to either side, your guiding line occasionally requiring you to collapse upon hands and knees and crawl under a car. Following the last such obstacle, as you rise, your shredded foot slides from beneath you, and you collapse — the gathered bundle of organs you’d managed to stuff back within yourself cascading forth. As your cheeks grow damp, you look up from the mess of splintered roadwork and throbbing guts — up — at the looming, sprawling bulk of a partly collapsed homestead that rises from the fog before you.\n\nThrough the mist, you can see the pallid coils that compose the structure and the shuffling, anthropomorphic figures wandering within, glistening wetly. As you watch, one of the humanoids wobbles from a sagging aperture and stands, its oblong head (composed of layer upon layer of coiled white strands) turning to face you. Under your prone body, your intestines pulsate. The facsimile of your form pulsates in unison. The copy of your home pulses in unison.\n\nYou scream.", - "As the arms of a fresh dream embrace your mind, your expression contorts in sleep.\n\nMoss-infested walls enclose a cavernous space floored by steel-plated platforms bulging with veins of rust; goosebumps spread across your flesh as cold water drizzles upon you from the perforated roof overhead. A low, thrumming cadence drones in your ears, vibrating through the steel underfoot — the humming of some monstrous, unseen motor at work powering the mechanism that stretches before you. Trundling from an aperture at the room’s right and grinding past you, a massive conveyor belt groans along; it’s rubber tread Layden with a row of neatly placed bodies. As they’re born along, you find yourself recognising pallid faces, staring eyes, gaping maws, and bruised flesh forming facsimiles of people you’d encountered during the last days of evacuation: refugees, soldiers, and relief workers.\n\nAs the corpses reach the end of the line and are unceremoniously dumped upon the floor, their limbs contort, cracking noises punctuating the air over the grinding of the belt as they start to flail and wriggle across the steel, worming towards you. Writhing and slithering across one another, they crawl in a loop about you, your stomach churning as the sounds of stretching flesh fill your ears as their necks stretch forth, lifting their heads level with your own as though they’re some manner of human sauropod. As growing numbers of blood-shot eyes fixate upon you and a forest of extending necks cocoons you, each head jabbers out a singular, unique word: a discordant muddle of phrases that grows more coherent with each body that joins the assembly.\n\n\"are all escaped; you When up, we\"\n\n\"We are all escaped; you left When you up, we\"\n\n\"We are all you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will be there.\"" + "As the arms of a fresh dream embrace your mind, your expression contorts in sleep.\n\nMoss-infested walls enclose a cavernous space floored by steel-plated platforms bulging with veins of rust; goosebumps spread across your flesh as cold water drizzles upon you from the perforated roof overhead. A low, thrumming cadence drones in your ears, vibrating through the steel underfoot — the humming of some monstrous, unseen motor at work powering the mechanism that stretches before you. Trundling from an aperture at the room’s right and grinding past you, a massive conveyor belt groans along; it’s rubber tread Layden with a row of neatly placed bodies. As they’re born along, you find yourself recognising pallid faces, staring eyes, gaping maws, and bruised flesh forming facsimiles of people you’d encountered during the last days of evacuation: refugees, soldiers, and relief workers.\n\nAs the corpses reach the end of the line and are unceremoniously dumped upon the floor, their limbs contort, cracking noises punctuating the air over the grinding of the belt as they start to flail and wriggle across the steel, worming towards you. Writhing and slithering across one another, they crawl in a loop about you, your stomach churning as the sounds of stretching flesh fill your ears as their necks stretch forth, lifting their heads level with your own. As growing numbers of blood-shot eyes fixate upon you and a forest of extending necks cocoons you, each head jabbers out a singular, unique word: a discordant muddle of phrases that grows more coherent with each body that joins the assembly.\n\n\"are all escaped; you When up, we\"\n\n\"We are all escaped; you left When you up, we\"\n\n\"We are all you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will be there.\"", + "You twitch restlessly in your sleep as a fresh dream snags you away from your moment of sanctity.\n\nA black void fills your vision, a plastic, crinkling sound rustling in your ears as you feel yourself jouncing along, heavy footfalls audible under the swish of the material encasing you, as well as a muffled murmur of conversation. Confused, wading through a mire of growing claustrophobia, and feeling blood rush to your head, you register that someone’s got a solid grip on your ankles, hauling you over a shoulder like some kind of potato sack. Suddenly, your stomach lurches as you feel yourself being heaved through the air, the grip on your legs disappearing as you plummet like a stone, crashing upon a partially soft, uneven platform bulging and undulating against your spine.\n\nAs you collect your faculties, you spy a slight tare in the plastic level with your gaze, and, greedy for a breath of fresh air and even a peep of vision, you press your face against the slit. The blue expanse of the sky winks down upon you, flanked by the dirt inclines of a pit, as, teaming about the edges, you see gasmask-wearing soldiers hauling, kicking, and shoving plastic-swaddled bundles into the ditch. As the body bags land heavily upon and about your form, more often than not, you can feel their reanimating contents struggling against their captivity.\n\nSeparated from the zombies about you by only a few layers of plastic, all you can do is futilely kick and cry for help as the last bags are piled into the ditch atop you, fingers clawing at the material at your back. Overhead, the soldiers withdraw from the pit, save for a handful who set about upturning the contents of a collection of jerrycans into the trench, watering the gathered body bags with a viscous, black liquid. As the overpowering smell of gasoline fills your nostrils, you whimper.\n\nMoments before the undead below you rend your plastic barrier and the flesh of your back follows suit, your eyes are blinded as a burning flare is flung into the corpse pit, the light descending like a falling star." ] } ] From 70d376d864b8e439b25de32270818f7de1f4fb74 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DoctorBoomstick <102766473+DoctorBoomstick@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Thu, 7 Mar 2024 17:30:57 +0100 Subject: [PATCH 04/18] hooks in flavour text for when the player falls a sleep. --- .../json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json | 24 +++++++++++++++++++ 1 file changed, 24 insertions(+) diff --git a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json index 47b652a026588..3f23b5247744c 100644 --- a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json +++ b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json @@ -5,6 +5,30 @@ "//": "used to prevent multiple dreams at the same sleep", "effect": [ { "math": [ "dream_counter", "=", "0" ] } ] }, + { + "type": "effect_on_condition", + "id": "EOC_TROUBLED_SLEEP_MESSAGE", + "eoc_type": "EVENT", + "required_event": "character_falls_asleep", + "condition": { "and": [ { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, { "not": { "u_has_effect": "took_prozac" } } ] }, + "effect": [ + { + "u_message": "As your eyes close, unease brews in your mind, anxiety swirling in your gut. You know the nightmares won't leave you at peace.", + "type": "bad" + } + ], + "false_effect": { + "run_eocs": [ + { + "id": "EOC_TROUBLED_SLEEP_SAFE", + "condition": { "and": [ { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, { "u_has_effect": "took_prozac" } ] }, + "effect": { + "u_message": "Surrendering yourself to the arms of sleep, you hope your medication will let you have a good night’s rest." + } + } + ] + } + }, { "type": "effect_on_condition", "id": "EOC_TROUBLED_SLEEP_NIGHTMARES", From 6d2dc566af8bc87aa56d777916be994b924be2d3 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DoctorBoomstick <102766473+DoctorBoomstick@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Fri, 8 Mar 2024 09:49:50 +0100 Subject: [PATCH 05/18] adds the framework for flavour messages when the player enters the tired status, 5 such snippets, annotates the EOCs with comments, and tightens the existing nightmare snippets to make them less verbose. --- .../json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json | 21 ++++++++++++++++++- data/json/snippets/nightmares.json | 17 ++++++++++++--- 2 files changed, 34 insertions(+), 4 deletions(-) diff --git a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json index 3f23b5247744c..945dfa575a67a 100644 --- a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json +++ b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json @@ -5,9 +5,25 @@ "//": "used to prevent multiple dreams at the same sleep", "effect": [ { "math": [ "dream_counter", "=", "0" ] } ] }, + { + "type": "effect_on_condition", + "id": "EOC_TROUBLED_SLEEP_FATIGUE_MESSAGES", + "//": "Prints a flavour text message to the log about being afraid of sleep if the character has entered the tired status, has the trubbled sleeper trait, and has not taken preventative medication. The EOC’s set to recur every 8 to 20 minutes.", + "global": true, + "recurrence": [ 480, 1200 ], + "condition": { + "and": [ + { "math": [ "u_val('fatigue')", ">", "191" ] }, + { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, + { "not": { "u_has_effect": "took_prozac" } } + ] + }, + "effect": [ { "u_message": "troubled_sleep_fatigue_messages", "snippet": true, "type": "bad" } ] + }, { "type": "effect_on_condition", "id": "EOC_TROUBLED_SLEEP_MESSAGE", + "//": "prints a message to the log upon the character falling asleep with the troubled sleeper trait. The text changes based on whether the player has taken preventative medication or not. Primarily intended for immersion and to let the player know if their medication, should they have taken it, is going to work to repress nightmares.", "eoc_type": "EVENT", "required_event": "character_falls_asleep", "condition": { "and": [ { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, { "not": { "u_has_effect": "took_prozac" } } ] }, @@ -23,7 +39,8 @@ "id": "EOC_TROUBLED_SLEEP_SAFE", "condition": { "and": [ { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, { "u_has_effect": "took_prozac" } ] }, "effect": { - "u_message": "Surrendering yourself to the arms of sleep, you hope your medication will let you have a good night’s rest." + "u_message": "Surrendering yourself to the arms of sleep, you hope your medication will let you have a good night’s rest.", + "type": "good" } } ] @@ -32,6 +49,7 @@ { "type": "effect_on_condition", "id": "EOC_TROUBLED_SLEEP_NIGHTMARES", + "//": "Generates a generic, post-cataclysm nightmare for players with the troubled sleeper trait upon the character waking up, presents a pop-up with the nightmare, and provides a mood debuff. The EOC’s set to not fire if the player has taken preventative medication.", "eoc_type": "EVENT", "required_event": "character_wakes_up", "condition": { @@ -41,6 +59,7 @@ { "not": { "u_has_effect": "took_prozac" } } ] }, + "//2": "This does not pull from the snippets used when a player gets nightmares as a result of a portal storm.", "effect": [ { "u_message": "nightmares_cataclysm_general", "snippet": true, "popup": true, "type": "bad" }, { "u_add_morale": "morale_nightmare", "bonus": [ -15, -30 ], "max_bonus": -30 }, diff --git a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json index a2d417ce4f562..201977edb8e50 100644 --- a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json +++ b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json @@ -56,9 +56,20 @@ "//": "Nightmare snippets for players with the troubled sleep trait that only recount recollections, dreams, and fabricated memories that anyone, regardless of profession, could have had as a result of the Cataclysm. Anything profession-dependent should be placed in an appropriate category.", "//2": "While these can and should stray into the realm of impossibility, for example, a player seeing their dream from the perspective of a zombie, they should be related to things the character might have seen, feared, or heard during the Cataclysm. E.g., having the player in the body of a zombie as they get gunned down by soldiers is fine, but having a dream about falling from an aeroplane into water infested by clowns isn’t suitable for this category.", "text": [ - "Still reposed in sleep, a whimper escapes your throat as a dream encroaches upon your mind.\n\nUndulating plumes of mist coil about you as you find yourself staggering through the haze — a flowing wall of silvery grey struck through with black. Underfoot, splintered shards of asphalt slice at your bare soles, your steps growing more sodden and sticky as each tread peals flesh and blood froths from the openings. While agonising, it is nothing to the raw throbbing at your abdomen, the skin of your belly hanging open like the lapels of an undone jacket, pale coils of intestine spilling forth. Between your clenched fists, a stretch of gut hangs from the opening, its end leading into the mist ahead like a guiding thread that you follow, and you do your best to pile back within yourself as you shuffle along.\n\nStaggering down the street’s broken remains, a flicker of recognition whispers at the back of your mind as you hobble between the towering hulks of recked vehicles that loom in the fog to either side, your guiding line occasionally requiring you to collapse upon hands and knees and crawl under a car. Following the last such obstacle, as you rise, your shredded foot slides from beneath you, and you collapse — the gathered bundle of organs you’d managed to stuff back within yourself cascading forth. As your cheeks grow damp, you look up from the mess of splintered roadwork and throbbing guts — up — at the looming, sprawling bulk of a partly collapsed homestead that rises from the fog before you.\n\nThrough the mist, you can see the pallid coils that compose the structure and the shuffling, anthropomorphic figures wandering within, glistening wetly. As you watch, one of the humanoids wobbles from a sagging aperture and stands, its oblong head (composed of layer upon layer of coiled white strands) turning to face you. Under your prone body, your intestines pulsate. The facsimile of your form pulsates in unison. The copy of your home pulses in unison.\n\nYou scream.", - "As the arms of a fresh dream embrace your mind, your expression contorts in sleep.\n\nMoss-infested walls enclose a cavernous space floored by steel-plated platforms bulging with veins of rust; goosebumps spread across your flesh as cold water drizzles upon you from the perforated roof overhead. A low, thrumming cadence drones in your ears, vibrating through the steel underfoot — the humming of some monstrous, unseen motor at work powering the mechanism that stretches before you. Trundling from an aperture at the room’s right and grinding past you, a massive conveyor belt groans along; it’s rubber tread Layden with a row of neatly placed bodies. As they’re born along, you find yourself recognising pallid faces, staring eyes, gaping maws, and bruised flesh forming facsimiles of people you’d encountered during the last days of evacuation: refugees, soldiers, and relief workers.\n\nAs the corpses reach the end of the line and are unceremoniously dumped upon the floor, their limbs contort, cracking noises punctuating the air over the grinding of the belt as they start to flail and wriggle across the steel, worming towards you. Writhing and slithering across one another, they crawl in a loop about you, your stomach churning as the sounds of stretching flesh fill your ears as their necks stretch forth, lifting their heads level with your own. As growing numbers of blood-shot eyes fixate upon you and a forest of extending necks cocoons you, each head jabbers out a singular, unique word: a discordant muddle of phrases that grows more coherent with each body that joins the assembly.\n\n\"are all escaped; you When up, we\"\n\n\"We are all escaped; you left When you up, we\"\n\n\"We are all you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will be there.\"", - "You twitch restlessly in your sleep as a fresh dream snags you away from your moment of sanctity.\n\nA black void fills your vision, a plastic, crinkling sound rustling in your ears as you feel yourself jouncing along, heavy footfalls audible under the swish of the material encasing you, as well as a muffled murmur of conversation. Confused, wading through a mire of growing claustrophobia, and feeling blood rush to your head, you register that someone’s got a solid grip on your ankles, hauling you over a shoulder like some kind of potato sack. Suddenly, your stomach lurches as you feel yourself being heaved through the air, the grip on your legs disappearing as you plummet like a stone, crashing upon a partially soft, uneven platform bulging and undulating against your spine.\n\nAs you collect your faculties, you spy a slight tare in the plastic level with your gaze, and, greedy for a breath of fresh air and even a peep of vision, you press your face against the slit. The blue expanse of the sky winks down upon you, flanked by the dirt inclines of a pit, as, teaming about the edges, you see gasmask-wearing soldiers hauling, kicking, and shoving plastic-swaddled bundles into the ditch. As the body bags land heavily upon and about your form, more often than not, you can feel their reanimating contents struggling against their captivity.\n\nSeparated from the zombies about you by only a few layers of plastic, all you can do is futilely kick and cry for help as the last bags are piled into the ditch atop you, fingers clawing at the material at your back. Overhead, the soldiers withdraw from the pit, save for a handful who set about upturning the contents of a collection of jerrycans into the trench, watering the gathered body bags with a viscous, black liquid. As the overpowering smell of gasoline fills your nostrils, you whimper.\n\nMoments before the undead below you rend your plastic barrier and the flesh of your back follows suit, your eyes are blinded as a burning flare is flung into the corpse pit, the light descending like a falling star." + "Still reposed in sleep, a whimper escapes your throat as a dream encroaches upon your mind.\n\nPlumes of mist coil about you as you find yourself staggering through the haze — a flowing wall of silvery grey struck through with black. Underfoot, splintered shards of asphalt slice at your bare soles, your steps growing more sodden and sticky as each tread peals flesh and blood froths from the openings. While agonising, it is nothing to the raw throbbing at your abdomen, the skin of your belly hanging open like a jacket’s lapels, pale coils of intestine spilling forth. Between your clenched fists, a stretch of gut hangs from the opening, its end leading into the mist ahead like a guiding thread that you follow.\n\nShuffling along, a flicker of recognition whispers at the back of your mind as you hobble between the hulks of recked vehicles that loom in the fog to either side, your guiding line occasionally requiring you to collapse upon hands and knees and crawl under a car. Following the last such obstacle, as you rise, your shredded foot slides from beneath you, sending you collapsing — the gathered bundle of organs you’d managed to stuff back within yourself cascading forth. As your cheeks grow damp, you look up from the mess of splintered roadwork and throbbing guts — up — at the sprawling bulk of a collapsed homestead that rises from the fog before you.\n\nThrough the mist, you can see the pallid coils that compose the structure and the shuffling, anthropomorphic figures wandering within, glistening wetly. As you watch, one of the humanoids wobbles from a sagging aperture and stands, its oblong head (composed of layer upon layer of coiled strands) turning to face you. Under your prone body, your intestines pulsate. The facsimile of your form pulses in unison. The copy of your home pulses in unison.\n\nYou scream.", + "As the arms of a fresh dream embrace your mind, your expression contorts.\n\nMoss-infested walls enclose a cavernous space floored by steel plates bulging with veins of rust; goosebumps spread across your flesh as cold water drizzles from the roof. A low, thrumming cadence drones in your ears, vibrating through the steel underfoot — the humming of some monstrous, unseen motor at work powering the mechanism that stretches before you. Trundling from an aperture at the room’s right and grinding past, a massive conveyor belt groans along; it’s rubber tread Layden with a row of neatly placed bodies. As they’re born along, you find yourself recognising pallid faces, staring eyes, gaping maws, and bruised flesh forming facsimiles of people you’d encountered during the last days of evacuation: refugees, soldiers, and relief workers.\n\nAs the corpses reach the end of the line and are unceremoniously dumped upon the floor, their limbs contort, cracking noises punctuating the air over the grinding of the belt as they start to flail and wriggle across the steel, worming towards you. Writhing and slithering across one another, they crawl in a loop about you, your stomach churning as the sounds of stretching flesh fill your ears as their necks stretch forth, lifting their heads level with your own. As growing numbers of blood-shot eyes fixate upon you and a forest of extending necks cocoons you, each head jabbers out a singular, unique word: a discordant muddle of phrases that grows more coherent with each body that joins the assembly.\n\n\"We are all you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will be there.\"", + "You twitch restlessly in your sleep as a fresh dream snags you from your sanctity.\n\nA black void fills your vision, a plastic, crinkling sound rustling in your ears as you feel yourself jouncing along, heavy footfalls audible under the swish of the material encasing you. As you wade through a growing mire of claustrophobia and feel blood rush to your head, you register that someone’s got a solid hold of your ankles, hauling you like a sack of potatoes. In a stomach-lurching moment, you feel yourself being lifted and heaved through the air, the grip on your legs disappearing as you plummet, crashing upon a partially soft, uneven platform undulating against your spine.\n\nAs you collect your faculties, you spy a slight tare in the plastic, and, greedy for a breath of air and a peep of vision, you press your face against the slit. The blue expanse of the sky winks down upon you, rimmed by the dirt inclines of a pit, as, teaming about the edges, gasmask-wearing soldiers haul, kick, and shove plastic-swaddled bundles into the ditch. As the body bags land heavily upon and about your form, you can feel their reanimating contents struggling against their captivity.\n\nSeparated from the zombies about you by only a few layers of plastic, all you can do is futilely kick and cry for help as the last bags are piled into the ditch atop you, fingers clawing at the material at your back. Overhead, the soldiers withdraw, save for a handful who set about upturning a collection of jerrycans into the trench. As the overpowering smell of gasoline fills your nostrils, you whimper.\n\nMoments before the undead below you rend your plastic barrier, your eyes are blinded as a burning flare is flung into the corpse pit, the light descending like a falling star." + ] + }, + { + "type": "snippet", + "category": "troubled_sleep_fatigue_messages", + "text": [ + "Taking a few seconds to rest your fatigue-weighted head, you quietly wish for the days when the idea of sleep didn’t provoke a pang of dread.", + "Your eyelids feel akin to storm shutters, your head’s drooping, and your heart hangs heavy as a led ball. The punishment of sleep isn’t too far off.", + "As you take a moment to rub the fatigue from your eyes, you briefly wonder what’s worse: waking to the cataclysm or falling asleep to a realm of nightmares.", + "Your body demands sleep, and your mind begs for its postponement. The tug of war brings tears to your eyes.", + "As the voice of slumber whispers at your mind, you feel like a forsaken soul lost in a sea of fatigue. You know the sharks of nightmares are circling." ] } ] From ab07bbfe0fce94688af8800e271a601986c1630c Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DoctorBoomstick <102766473+DoctorBoomstick@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Sun, 10 Mar 2024 17:29:00 +0100 Subject: [PATCH 06/18] Adds the category for soldier nightmares, the related eoc, and one, whole, mighty snippet. Wrapping up for draft. --- .../json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json | 40 +++++++++++++++++++ data/json/snippets/nightmares.json | 32 ++++++++++----- 2 files changed, 62 insertions(+), 10 deletions(-) diff --git a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json index 945dfa575a67a..ed9ee41ddd190 100644 --- a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json +++ b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json @@ -46,6 +46,46 @@ ] } }, + { + "type": "effect_on_condition", + "id": "EOC_TROUBLED_SLEEP_SOLDIER_NIGHTMARES", + "//": "Generates a military-specific nightmare for players with the troubled sleeper trait and a soldier profession upon the character waking up, presents a pop-up with the nightmare, and provides a mood debuff. The EOC’s set to not fire if the player has taken preventative medication.", + "eoc_type": "EVENT", + "required_event": "character_wakes_up", + "condition": { + "and": [ + { "math": [ "dream_counter", "==", "0" ] }, + { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, + { "not": { "u_has_effect": "took_prozac" } }, + { + "or": { + "u_profession": "recruit", + "u_profession": "rifleman", + "u_profession": "specops", + "u_profession": "mil_marksman", + "u_profession": "mil_auto_rifleman", + "u_profession": "mil_grenadier", + "u_profession": "mil_breacher", + "u_profession": "mil_sniper", + "u_profession": "mil_hacker", + "u_profession": "mil_undercover", + "u_profession": "hazmat_unit", + "u_profession": "nco", + "u_profession": "combat-mechanic", + "u_profession": "combat-engineer" + } + } + ] + }, + "//2": "Despite being soldiers, the Marine, Navy SEAL, Naval Sailor, Military Pilot, and Major General professions have been excluded from this list, as they should have their own nightmare categories.", + "//3": "This does not pull from the snippets used when a player gets nightmares as a result of a portal storm.", + "effect": [ + { "u_message": "nightmares_cataclysm_soldier", "snippet": true, "popup": true, "type": "bad" }, + { "u_add_morale": "morale_nightmare", "bonus": [ -15, -30 ], "max_bonus": -30 }, + { "math": [ "dream_counter", "=", "1" ] }, + { "queue_eocs": "EOC_RESET_DREAM_COUNTER", "time_in_future": 1 } + ] + }, { "type": "effect_on_condition", "id": "EOC_TROUBLED_SLEEP_NIGHTMARES", diff --git a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json index 201977edb8e50..ecd340ebefdfc 100644 --- a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json +++ b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json @@ -14,12 +14,12 @@ "You awaken feeling hollow; you dreamt of your friends and family, only to realize your new reality is the nightmare.", "You abruptly awake, relief washes over you as you were no longer naked in the street, and the zombies weren't laughing at you.", "You feel something gently embrace you as you sleep. You open your eyes, but it's too dark to see, you struggle to move, but it has your arms and legs in a cocoon of darkness, it has stolen your mouth and you cannot scream. It starts to devour you whole, starting with your feet, unable to escape, and unable to scream. You take your last breaths. It was just a dream.", - "You are in a meadow, unsure of how you got here. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and children are playing; all is peaceful. So why do the hairs on your neck stand at attention? Something is not quite right about this peace. You turn around, and the children have you surrounded. The faces of the children have vanished, replaced by a shark-like grin and beady black eyes. They reach out with their pale, claw-like hands. However, you cannot move, you cannot escape…", - "You open your eyes, and you are not where you slept. You have been strapped to a chair in a dimly lit room with damp, rusty walls. A clown covered in blood splatters approaches you from behind, wielding a rusty drill, dancing around you until he meets you face to face. He toys with the trigger, enjoying the sound. You plead for him to let you go, he replies with this maniacal laugh. He inches the roaring drill towards your face, playing with you, for you are his toy. You can't help but to watch in horror as the drill bit slowly inches its way towards your eye, unable to look away and unable to close your eyes. This is it.", + "You are in a meadow, unsure of how you got here. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and children are playing; all is peaceful. So why do the hairs on your neck stand at attention?\n\nSomething is not quite right about this peace.\n\nYou turn around, and the children have you surrounded. The faces of the children have vanished, replaced by a shark-like grin and beady black eyes. They reach out with their pale, claw-like hands. However, you cannot move, you cannot escape…", + "You open your eyes, and you are not where you slept.\n\nYou have been strapped to a chair in a dimly lit room with damp, rusty walls. A clown covered in blood splatters approaches you from behind, wielding a rusty drill, dancing around you until he meets you face to face. He toys with the trigger, enjoying the sound.\n\nYou plead for him to let you go, he replies with this maniacal laugh. He inches the roaring drill towards your face, playing with you, for you are his toy.\n\nYou can't help but watch in horror as the drill bit slowly inches its way towards your eye, unable to look away and unable to close your eyes. This is it.", "You regain consciousness and realize you are at the bottom of a deep pit. You can make out a bucket just opposite of you. Within the bucket you find a bottle of lotion.", "You feel as if you are being watched. Several feet away from you are a pair of burning yellow eyes. A long, slimy appendage snakes its way towards you, hauling you towards an abyssal pit of serrated teeth.", - "You try to get comfortable. You hear a loud skittering sound but see nothing. The sound grows louder, and yet you see nothing. Desperate, you search for the source of the sound, you find nothing except for an itch in your ear. You reach to scratch it, causing hundreds of tiny spiders to burst out, you find the source of the sound.", - "You open your eyes to a blinding light, surrounded by medical equipment, and a group of panicking individuals dressed in blue scrubs. They seem to be doctors. Your vision is blurry from the anesthesia, but one of them seems to be holding a mass of flesh; it appears to be alive. You glance down and find your chest has been cut open. The doctors start screaming as the mass of flesh rips them apart. You are next…", + "You try to get comfortable.\n\nYou hear a loud skittering sound but see nothing. The sound grows louder, and yet you see nothing. Desperate, you search for the source of the sound, you find nothing except for an itch in your ear.\n\nYou reach to scratch it, causing hundreds of tiny spiders to burst out, you find the source of the sound.", + "You open your eyes to a blinding light, surrounded by medical equipment, and a group of panicking individuals dressed in blue scrubs. They seem to be doctors. Your vision is blurry from the anesthesia, but one of them seems to be holding a mass of flesh; it appears to be alive.\n\nYou glance down and find your chest has been cut open. The doctors start screaming as the mass of flesh rips them apart. You are next…", "You awaken from a nightmare about the deaths of your loved ones.", "You awaken from a nightmare about being eaten alive by something terrible.", "You awaken from a nightmare about slowly going insane.", @@ -33,7 +33,7 @@ "You awaken from a nightmare about the Cataclysm not having happened and being stuck in an office job.", "You awaken from a nightmare about slipping out of a plane, into a pitch black sky.", "You awaken from a nightmare about being a limbless zombie in a decrepit building.", - "You're outside in a park, under a dark gray sky. The air is thick, and smells like earth. You hear thunder crack above you, and it begins to rain. As you look up, you realize with horror that it's raining spiders. The creatures land all over your body, and you try to cover your mouth and nose but a few manage to slip through your hands. You can feel the spiders inside your lungs. You try to scream, but your mouth is full of them. Tears stream down your face as you choke on millions of tiny black spiders. You wake up gasping for air.", + "You're outside in a park, under a dark gray sky. The air is thick, and smells like earth. You hear thunder crack above you, and it begins to rain. As you look up, you realize with horror that it's raining spiders.\n\nThe creatures land all over your body, and you try to cover your mouth and nose but a few manage to slip through your hands. You can feel the spiders inside your lungs. You try to scream, but your mouth is full of them. Tears stream down your face as you choke on millions of tiny black spiders.\n\nYou wake up gasping for air.", "It's your first day at work! Unfortunately, the bus had to take a three-hour detour, so you show up extremely late. As you walk into the office, you suddenly realize you forgot to put your pants on. Even worse, your mother walks in behind you and starts berating you in front of all your co-workers. As the entire office laughs at you, you wake up from your nightmare.", "You dream of running in an endless hallway. You hear something gargantuan chasing you with heavy breaths and wet squelching sounds. You run until you are out of breath and wake up feeling exhausted.", "You awaken from a nightmare about drowning in a pit of maggots - chewing and biting your skin, filling your lungs.", @@ -43,11 +43,11 @@ "You have a long and vivid nightmare about living in an old, poorly ventilated building with countless other people. The air is humid and stuffy, every room is brightly lit and the people are always yelling and making noise. You try to get some rest but you can't. You try using the restroom but it's too cramped. It gets so unbearable that you feel sick, and you find that you've gagged yourself awake.", "You have a strange dream about walking through a street from your childhood, where every surface is the same shade of solid red. You wake up startled after noticing an equally red man down the street, moving quickly in your direction.", "In your dreams you feel as though you've learned something really, really important. You wake up in quiet distress, as you've already forgotten what that something was.", - "You open your eyes and find yourself in a school hallway. It's high school. Students are filing past one another to reach their respective classrooms. You begin heading for your class as well, when you distinctly hear a soft voice crying out for help. Startled, you go into a half-sprint and rush to where the noises are coming from. You end up in front of one of the student bathrooms. The weeping seems to be echoing from the ladies' restroom, and you brace yourself for the worst and barge in. The abrupt silence catches you off guard, and of the four stalls, one seems to be painted entirely black. You creep towards it and silently push ajar the entrance. You find with abject terror a naked baby blown to horrific proportions wailing out his lungs. The macabre dread deadens your heart as you realize. This was how you were birthed into this world.", - "You fitfully dreamed horrid, fleeting dreams for the past several days. Each time you plunged into slumber, you always ended up in the same place. You would be in one of the decrepit residential flats of an old burned-down building. The dream merely consisted of you heading to the bathroom to wash your hair over the sink. The problem was that you could feel someone approaching in the distance. Every night, footsteps appeared to be getting closer. Last week, you managed to see the door to your flat opening as you headed for the bathroom. Outside stood a man, cloaked in heavy shadow, his breathing stifled. Four days ago, he reached the living room. Two days ago, he stood right next to you as you entered the restroom. His eyes were dull and resembled cracked, foggy glass. His hands clutched a rusty knife. Yesterday, he followed you in. Today, he stared unblinking as you washed your hair. Out of the corner of your eye as your cleaned yourself, you saw him scribbling something on the wall with a thick, dark red liquid. The viscous trail of crimson shocked you awake. It read: Tomorrow.", + "You open your eyes and find yourself in a school hallway. It's high school. Students are filing past one another to reach their respective classrooms. You begin heading for your class as well, when you distinctly hear a soft voice crying out for help. Startled, you go into a half-sprint and rush to where the noises are coming from.\n\nYou end up in front of one of the student bathrooms. The weeping seems to be echoing from the ladies' restroom, and you brace yourself for the worst and barge in. The abrupt silence catches you off guard, and of the four stalls, one seems to be painted entirely black. You creep towards it and silently push ajar the entrance. You find with abject terror a naked baby blown to horrific proportions wailing out his lungs.\n\nThe macabre dread deadens your heart as you realize. This was how you were birthed into this world.", + "You fitfully dreamed horrid, fleeting dreams for the past several days. Each time you plunged into slumber, you always ended up in the same place. You would be in one of the decrepit residential flats of an old burned-down building. The dream merely consisted of you heading to the bathroom to wash your hair over the sink. The problem was that you could feel someone approaching in the distance. Every night, footsteps appeared to be getting closer.\n\nLast week, you managed to see the door to your flat opening as you headed for the bathroom. Outside stood a man, cloaked in heavy shadow, his breathing stifled.\n\nFour days ago, he reached the living room.\n\nTwo days ago, he stood right next to you as you entered the restroom. His eyes were dull and resembled cracked, foggy glass. His hands clutched a rusty knife.\n\nYesterday, he followed you in.\n\nToday, he stared unblinking as you washed your hair.\n\nOut of the corner of your eye as you cleaned yourself, you saw him scribbling something on the wall with a thick, dark red liquid. The viscous trail of crimson shocked you awake. It read: Tomorrow.", "You wake up feeling that you lost something important.", - "You flee in a panic into a nearby school bathroom. Mr. ____, he was chasing you. You had your doubts but now you were sure. As you try your best to calm your ragged breathing, you rush into an unlocked stall to hide. The proof was right here. Every wall of the stall was covered in soulless eyes. They were painted. Except for one. One of the eyes was hollow. It was used as a cover to hide a hole leading to the next-door stall. Mr. ____ would secretly spy on the students. You had evidence of his misdemeanor. You frantically message your friends with the footage, asking them to contact the authorities. You tell them you are not in a position to call them yourself. Suddenly, you look up, and find Mr. ____ staring at you as he climbs down from the locked stall door. You wake up screaming, still reeling from the nightmare.", - "You hear a voice in the distance proclaiming that the Son of Man would soon arrive. It was the one we had all been waiting for, for so long. You smile in quiet rapture as angels start descending from Heaven. Up above, seated upon a golden throne, brighter than the Sun, and more mysterious than the Moon, you see a blinding white light. As you shed tears of infinite bliss, you peer deeper into the luminous source out of curiosity, and see… horns? You are startled awake by the revelation." + "You flee in a panic into a nearby school bathroom. Mr. ____, he was chasing you. You had your doubts but now you were sure. As you try your best to calm your ragged breathing, you rush into an unlocked stall to hide.\n\nThe proof was right here.\n\nEvery wall of the stall was covered in soulless eyes. They were painted. Except for one. One of the eyes was hollow. It was used as a cover to hide a hole leading to the next-door stall. Mr. ____ would secretly spy on the students. You had evidence of his misdemeanor.\n\nYou frantically message your friends with the footage, asking them to contact the authorities. You tell them you are not in a position to call them yourself. Suddenly, you look up, and find Mr. ____ staring at you as he climbs down from the locked stall door.\n\nYou wake up screaming, still reeling from the nightmare.", + "You hear a voice in the distance proclaiming that the Son of Man would soon arrive. It was the one we had all been waiting for, for so long. You smile in quiet rapture as angels start descending from Heaven.\n\nUp above, seated upon a golden throne, brighter than the Sun, and more mysterious than the Moon, you see a blinding white light. As you shed tears of infinite bliss, you peer deeper into the luminous source out of curiosity, and see… horns? You are startled awake by the revelation." ] }, { @@ -61,6 +61,15 @@ "You twitch restlessly in your sleep as a fresh dream snags you from your sanctity.\n\nA black void fills your vision, a plastic, crinkling sound rustling in your ears as you feel yourself jouncing along, heavy footfalls audible under the swish of the material encasing you. As you wade through a growing mire of claustrophobia and feel blood rush to your head, you register that someone’s got a solid hold of your ankles, hauling you like a sack of potatoes. In a stomach-lurching moment, you feel yourself being lifted and heaved through the air, the grip on your legs disappearing as you plummet, crashing upon a partially soft, uneven platform undulating against your spine.\n\nAs you collect your faculties, you spy a slight tare in the plastic, and, greedy for a breath of air and a peep of vision, you press your face against the slit. The blue expanse of the sky winks down upon you, rimmed by the dirt inclines of a pit, as, teaming about the edges, gasmask-wearing soldiers haul, kick, and shove plastic-swaddled bundles into the ditch. As the body bags land heavily upon and about your form, you can feel their reanimating contents struggling against their captivity.\n\nSeparated from the zombies about you by only a few layers of plastic, all you can do is futilely kick and cry for help as the last bags are piled into the ditch atop you, fingers clawing at the material at your back. Overhead, the soldiers withdraw, save for a handful who set about upturning a collection of jerrycans into the trench. As the overpowering smell of gasoline fills your nostrils, you whimper.\n\nMoments before the undead below you rend your plastic barrier, your eyes are blinded as a burning flare is flung into the corpse pit, the light descending like a falling star." ] }, + { + "type": "snippet", + "category": "nightmares_cataclysm_soldier", + "//": "Nightmare snippets for players with the troubled sleeper trait that recount dreams exclusively associated with characters that start as active soldiers.", + "//2": "While these can and should stray into the realm of impossibility, for example, a player seeing their dream from the perspective of a zombie, they should be related to things the character might have seen, feared, or heard during the Cataclysm. E.g., having the player in the body of a zombie as they get gunned down by soldiers is fine, but having a dream about falling from an aeroplane into water infested by clowns isn’t suitable for this category.", + "text": [ + "As the teeth of a fresh nightmare snap shut upon your rest, you wimper in your sleep.\n\nRancid mud and black blood cake your uniform as you rock desultorily, your knees pulled to your chest as the tears flowing from your eyes match the thundering rain overhead, drop for drop. Shielded from the tempest by a steel aisleway, vibrating as water cascades across the undercarriage of the antiquated, overturned military truck tented about you, you shiver — your teeth on edge with each groaning creek the battered vehicle emits.\n\nAs metal shrieks and thunder booms, the noises are accompanied by a guttural, nasal grunting, as though the emanations of some gargantuan dog. Yet, somehow, the small voice that’s faintly calling in the distance, lost among the rain, is still audible over the maelstrom.\n\n\". ,\" the voice of a fellow soldier, and, before the Cataclysm, your former friend in the forces, , gently calls.\n\n\"Look up, ,\" they softly urge. \"Look up. It’ll be easier that way.\"\n\nComplying, your cheeks awash with grief, you spy a lanky, scaled thing struggling to push through the narrow gap between the truck’s rear gate and the ground. It's an ebony snout with flared, oozing nostrils and haphazardly grown fangs.\n\n\"It’s alright,\" the voice sadly whispers as the muzzle’s lips stretch and a muscular, blackish-blue tongue flops forth, its underside lined with dual rows of barbs. \"It’ll be alright.\"\n\nLapping at the ground, leaving webs of saliva against the truck’s flooring, the organ stretches towards you. The creature crouching beyond the vehicle lets out a frustrated howl, its rotten breath rolling across you as its tongue reaches just shy of your boots.\n\n\"Gerry, when this is over, find me.\"\n\nAs the melancholic voice of your friend merges with the beast’s rising growls, the truck quakes as it succeeds in shoving its whole head into the compartment.\n\n\"Find me... and kill me.\"\n\nYou startle awake, your body drenched in sweat and with the image of your friend’s features stretched grotesquely across the monster’s skull, branded into your retinas." + ] + }, { "type": "snippet", "category": "troubled_sleep_fatigue_messages", @@ -69,7 +78,10 @@ "Your eyelids feel akin to storm shutters, your head’s drooping, and your heart hangs heavy as a led ball. The punishment of sleep isn’t too far off.", "As you take a moment to rub the fatigue from your eyes, you briefly wonder what’s worse: waking to the cataclysm or falling asleep to a realm of nightmares.", "Your body demands sleep, and your mind begs for its postponement. The tug of war brings tears to your eyes.", - "As the voice of slumber whispers at your mind, you feel like a forsaken soul lost in a sea of fatigue. You know the sharks of nightmares are circling." + "As the voice of slumber whispers at your mind, you feel like a forsaken soul lost in a sea of fatigue. You know the sharks of nightmares are circling.", + "You sway listlessly, your head drooping. Dejectedly, you wonder at which point the pains of fatigue will outweigh the terror of sleep.", + "As your shoulders slump below the weight of the day’s exertions, you recall your nightmares and try convincing yourself that they’re not as bad as you make them to be. The mere process of recollection sends butterflies gnawing at your guts.", + "Pinching the bridge of your nose as you rub your eyes, you wish that you could rub away the leftover recollections of your last nightmare from your mind. Only sleep will replace it. You're not looking forward to seeing what it replaces it with." ] } ] From 46434499132ed3f497794147e6afc65740f71457 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DoctorBoomstick <102766473+DoctorBoomstick@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Sun, 10 Mar 2024 20:22:37 +0100 Subject: [PATCH 07/18] I lied last time. This is the final commit before draft. General formatting bug fixes. --- data/json/snippets/nightmares.json | 20 ++++++++++---------- 1 file changed, 10 insertions(+), 10 deletions(-) diff --git a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json index ecd340ebefdfc..3084f533b85f1 100644 --- a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json +++ b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json @@ -54,33 +54,33 @@ "type": "snippet", "category": "nightmares_cataclysm_general", "//": "Nightmare snippets for players with the troubled sleep trait that only recount recollections, dreams, and fabricated memories that anyone, regardless of profession, could have had as a result of the Cataclysm. Anything profession-dependent should be placed in an appropriate category.", - "//2": "While these can and should stray into the realm of impossibility, for example, a player seeing their dream from the perspective of a zombie, they should be related to things the character might have seen, feared, or heard during the Cataclysm. E.g., having the player in the body of a zombie as they get gunned down by soldiers is fine, but having a dream about falling from an aeroplane into water infested by clowns isn’t suitable for this category.", + "//2": "While these can and should stray into the realm of impossibility, for example, a player seeing their dream from the perspective of a zombie, they should be related to things the character might have seen, feared, or heard during the Cataclysm. E.g., having the player in the body of a zombie as they get gunned down by soldiers is fine, but having a dream about falling from an aeroplane into water infested by clowns isn't suitable for this category.", "text": [ - "Still reposed in sleep, a whimper escapes your throat as a dream encroaches upon your mind.\n\nPlumes of mist coil about you as you find yourself staggering through the haze — a flowing wall of silvery grey struck through with black. Underfoot, splintered shards of asphalt slice at your bare soles, your steps growing more sodden and sticky as each tread peals flesh and blood froths from the openings. While agonising, it is nothing to the raw throbbing at your abdomen, the skin of your belly hanging open like a jacket’s lapels, pale coils of intestine spilling forth. Between your clenched fists, a stretch of gut hangs from the opening, its end leading into the mist ahead like a guiding thread that you follow.\n\nShuffling along, a flicker of recognition whispers at the back of your mind as you hobble between the hulks of recked vehicles that loom in the fog to either side, your guiding line occasionally requiring you to collapse upon hands and knees and crawl under a car. Following the last such obstacle, as you rise, your shredded foot slides from beneath you, sending you collapsing — the gathered bundle of organs you’d managed to stuff back within yourself cascading forth. As your cheeks grow damp, you look up from the mess of splintered roadwork and throbbing guts — up — at the sprawling bulk of a collapsed homestead that rises from the fog before you.\n\nThrough the mist, you can see the pallid coils that compose the structure and the shuffling, anthropomorphic figures wandering within, glistening wetly. As you watch, one of the humanoids wobbles from a sagging aperture and stands, its oblong head (composed of layer upon layer of coiled strands) turning to face you. Under your prone body, your intestines pulsate. The facsimile of your form pulses in unison. The copy of your home pulses in unison.\n\nYou scream.", - "As the arms of a fresh dream embrace your mind, your expression contorts.\n\nMoss-infested walls enclose a cavernous space floored by steel plates bulging with veins of rust; goosebumps spread across your flesh as cold water drizzles from the roof. A low, thrumming cadence drones in your ears, vibrating through the steel underfoot — the humming of some monstrous, unseen motor at work powering the mechanism that stretches before you. Trundling from an aperture at the room’s right and grinding past, a massive conveyor belt groans along; it’s rubber tread Layden with a row of neatly placed bodies. As they’re born along, you find yourself recognising pallid faces, staring eyes, gaping maws, and bruised flesh forming facsimiles of people you’d encountered during the last days of evacuation: refugees, soldiers, and relief workers.\n\nAs the corpses reach the end of the line and are unceremoniously dumped upon the floor, their limbs contort, cracking noises punctuating the air over the grinding of the belt as they start to flail and wriggle across the steel, worming towards you. Writhing and slithering across one another, they crawl in a loop about you, your stomach churning as the sounds of stretching flesh fill your ears as their necks stretch forth, lifting their heads level with your own. As growing numbers of blood-shot eyes fixate upon you and a forest of extending necks cocoons you, each head jabbers out a singular, unique word: a discordant muddle of phrases that grows more coherent with each body that joins the assembly.\n\n\"We are all you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will be there.\"", - "You twitch restlessly in your sleep as a fresh dream snags you from your sanctity.\n\nA black void fills your vision, a plastic, crinkling sound rustling in your ears as you feel yourself jouncing along, heavy footfalls audible under the swish of the material encasing you. As you wade through a growing mire of claustrophobia and feel blood rush to your head, you register that someone’s got a solid hold of your ankles, hauling you like a sack of potatoes. In a stomach-lurching moment, you feel yourself being lifted and heaved through the air, the grip on your legs disappearing as you plummet, crashing upon a partially soft, uneven platform undulating against your spine.\n\nAs you collect your faculties, you spy a slight tare in the plastic, and, greedy for a breath of air and a peep of vision, you press your face against the slit. The blue expanse of the sky winks down upon you, rimmed by the dirt inclines of a pit, as, teaming about the edges, gasmask-wearing soldiers haul, kick, and shove plastic-swaddled bundles into the ditch. As the body bags land heavily upon and about your form, you can feel their reanimating contents struggling against their captivity.\n\nSeparated from the zombies about you by only a few layers of plastic, all you can do is futilely kick and cry for help as the last bags are piled into the ditch atop you, fingers clawing at the material at your back. Overhead, the soldiers withdraw, save for a handful who set about upturning a collection of jerrycans into the trench. As the overpowering smell of gasoline fills your nostrils, you whimper.\n\nMoments before the undead below you rend your plastic barrier, your eyes are blinded as a burning flare is flung into the corpse pit, the light descending like a falling star." + "Still reposed in sleep, a whimper escapes your throat as a dream encroaches upon your mind.\n\nPlumes of mist coil about you as you find yourself staggering through the haze — a flowing wall of silvery grey struck through with black. Underfoot, splintered shards of asphalt slice at your bare soles, your steps growing more sodden and sticky as each tread peals flesh and blood froths from the openings. While agonising, it is nothing to the raw throbbing at your abdomen, the skin of your belly hanging open like a jacket's lapels, pale coils of intestine spilling forth. Between your clenched fists, a stretch of gut hangs from the opening, its end leading into the mist ahead like a guiding thread that you follow.\n\nShuffling along, a flicker of recognition whispers at the back of your mind as you hobble between the hulks of recked vehicles that loom in the fog to either side, your guiding line occasionally requiring you to collapse upon hands and knees and crawl under a car. Following the last such obstacle, as you rise, your shredded foot slides from beneath you, sending you collapsing — the gathered bundle of organs you'd managed to stuff back within yourself cascading forth. As your cheeks grow damp, you look up from the mess of splintered roadwork and throbbing guts — up — at the sprawling bulk of a collapsed homestead that rises from the fog before you.\n\nThrough the mist, you can see the pallid coils that compose the structure and the shuffling, anthropomorphic figures wandering within, glistening wetly. As you watch, one of the humanoids wobbles from a sagging aperture and stands, its oblong head (composed of layer upon layer of coiled strands) turning to face you. Under your prone body, your intestines pulsate. The facsimile of your form pulses in unison. The copy of your home pulses in unison.\n\nYou scream.", + "As the arms of a fresh dream embrace your mind, your expression contorts.\n\nMoss-infested walls enclose a cavernous space floored by steel plates bulging with veins of rust; goosebumps spread across your flesh as cold water drizzles from the roof. A low, thrumming cadence drones in your ears, vibrating through the steel underfoot — the humming of some monstrous, unseen motor at work powering the mechanism that stretches before you. Trundling from an aperture at the room's right and grinding past, a massive conveyor belt groans along; it's rubber tread Layden with a row of neatly placed bodies. As they're born along, you find yourself recognising pallid faces, staring eyes, gaping maws, and bruised flesh forming facsimiles of people you'd encountered during the last days of evacuation: refugees, soldiers, and relief workers.\n\nAs the corpses reach the end of the line and are unceremoniously dumped upon the floor, their limbs contort, cracking noises punctuating the air over the grinding of the belt as they start to flail and wriggle across the steel, worming towards you. Writhing and slithering across one another, they crawl in a loop about you, your stomach churning as the sounds of stretching flesh fill your ears as their necks stretch forth, lifting their heads level with your own. As growing numbers of blood-shot eyes fixate upon you and a forest of extending necks cocoons you, each head jabbers out a singular, unique word: a discordant muddle of phrases that grows more coherent with each body that joins the assembly.\n\n\"We are all you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will be there.\"", + "You twitch restlessly in your sleep as a fresh dream snags you from your sanctity.\n\nA black void fills your vision, a plastic, crinkling sound rustling in your ears as you feel yourself jouncing along, heavy footfalls audible under the swish of the material encasing you. As you wade through a growing mire of claustrophobia and feel blood rush to your head, you register that someone's got a solid hold of your ankles, hauling you like a sack of potatoes. In a stomach-lurching moment, you feel yourself being lifted and heaved through the air, the grip on your legs disappearing as you plummet, crashing upon a partially soft, uneven platform undulating against your spine.\n\nAs you collect your faculties, you spy a slight tare in the plastic, and, greedy for a breath of air and a peep of vision, you press your face against the slit. The blue expanse of the sky winks down upon you, rimmed by the dirt inclines of a pit, as, teaming about the edges, gasmask-wearing soldiers haul, kick, and shove plastic-swaddled bundles into the ditch. As the body bags land heavily upon and about your form, you can feel their reanimating contents struggling against their captivity.\n\nSeparated from the zombies about you by only a few layers of plastic, all you can do is futilely kick and cry for help as the last bags are piled into the ditch atop you, fingers clawing at the material at your back. Overhead, the soldiers withdraw, save for a handful who set about upturning a collection of jerrycans into the trench. As the overpowering smell of gasoline fills your nostrils, you whimper.\n\nMoments before the undead below you rend your plastic barrier, your eyes are blinded as a burning flare is flung into the corpse pit, the light descending like a falling star." ] }, { "type": "snippet", "category": "nightmares_cataclysm_soldier", "//": "Nightmare snippets for players with the troubled sleeper trait that recount dreams exclusively associated with characters that start as active soldiers.", - "//2": "While these can and should stray into the realm of impossibility, for example, a player seeing their dream from the perspective of a zombie, they should be related to things the character might have seen, feared, or heard during the Cataclysm. E.g., having the player in the body of a zombie as they get gunned down by soldiers is fine, but having a dream about falling from an aeroplane into water infested by clowns isn’t suitable for this category.", + "//2": "While these can and should stray into the realm of impossibility, for example, a player seeing their dream from the perspective of a zombie, they should be related to things the character might have seen, feared, or heard during the Cataclysm. E.g., having the player in the body of a zombie as they get gunned down by soldiers is fine, but having a dream about falling from an aeroplane into water infested by clowns isn't suitable for this category.", "text": [ - "As the teeth of a fresh nightmare snap shut upon your rest, you wimper in your sleep.\n\nRancid mud and black blood cake your uniform as you rock desultorily, your knees pulled to your chest as the tears flowing from your eyes match the thundering rain overhead, drop for drop. Shielded from the tempest by a steel aisleway, vibrating as water cascades across the undercarriage of the antiquated, overturned military truck tented about you, you shiver — your teeth on edge with each groaning creek the battered vehicle emits.\n\nAs metal shrieks and thunder booms, the noises are accompanied by a guttural, nasal grunting, as though the emanations of some gargantuan dog. Yet, somehow, the small voice that’s faintly calling in the distance, lost among the rain, is still audible over the maelstrom.\n\n\". ,\" the voice of a fellow soldier, and, before the Cataclysm, your former friend in the forces, , gently calls.\n\n\"Look up, ,\" they softly urge. \"Look up. It’ll be easier that way.\"\n\nComplying, your cheeks awash with grief, you spy a lanky, scaled thing struggling to push through the narrow gap between the truck’s rear gate and the ground. It's an ebony snout with flared, oozing nostrils and haphazardly grown fangs.\n\n\"It’s alright,\" the voice sadly whispers as the muzzle’s lips stretch and a muscular, blackish-blue tongue flops forth, its underside lined with dual rows of barbs. \"It’ll be alright.\"\n\nLapping at the ground, leaving webs of saliva against the truck’s flooring, the organ stretches towards you. The creature crouching beyond the vehicle lets out a frustrated howl, its rotten breath rolling across you as its tongue reaches just shy of your boots.\n\n\"Gerry, when this is over, find me.\"\n\nAs the melancholic voice of your friend merges with the beast’s rising growls, the truck quakes as it succeeds in shoving its whole head into the compartment.\n\n\"Find me... and kill me.\"\n\nYou startle awake, your body drenched in sweat and with the image of your friend’s features stretched grotesquely across the monster’s skull, branded into your retinas." + "As the teeth of a fresh nightmare snap shut upon your rest, you wimper in your sleep.\n\nRancid mud and black blood cake your uniform as you rock desultorily, your knees pulled to your chest as the tears flowing from your eyes match the thundering rain overhead, drop for drop. Shielded from the tempest by a steel aisleway, vibrating as water cascades across the undercarriage of the antiquated, overturned military truck tented about you, you shiver — your teeth on edge with each groaning creek the battered vehicle emits.\n\nAs metal shrieks and thunder booms, the noises are accompanied by a guttural, nasal grunting, as though the emanations of some gargantuan dog. Yet, somehow, the small voice that's faintly calling in the distance, lost among the rain, is still audible over the maelstrom.\n\n\". ,\" the voice of a fellow soldier, and, before the Cataclysm, your former friend in the forces, , gently calls.\n\n\"Look up, ,\" they softly urge. \"Look up. It'll be easier that way.\"\n\nComplying, your cheeks awash with grief, you spy a lanky, scaled thing struggling to push through the narrow gap between the truck's rear gate and the ground. It's an ebony snout with flared, oozing nostrils and haphazardly grown fangs.\n\n\"It's alright,\" the voice sadly whispers as the muzzle's lips stretch and a muscular, blackish-blue tongue flops forth, its underside lined with dual rows of barbs. \"It'll be alright.\"\n\nLapping at the ground, leaving webs of saliva against the truck's flooring, the organ stretches towards you. The creature crouching beyond the vehicle lets out a frustrated howl, its rotten breath rolling across you as its tongue reaches just shy of your boots.\n\n\", when this is over, find me.\"\n\nAs the melancholic voice of your friend merges with the beast's rising growls, the truck quakes as it succeeds in shoving its whole head into the compartment.\n\n\"Find me... and kill me.\"\n\nYou startle awake, your body drenched in sweat and with the image of your friend's features stretched grotesquely across the monster's skull, branded into your retinas." ] }, { "type": "snippet", "category": "troubled_sleep_fatigue_messages", "text": [ - "Taking a few seconds to rest your fatigue-weighted head, you quietly wish for the days when the idea of sleep didn’t provoke a pang of dread.", - "Your eyelids feel akin to storm shutters, your head’s drooping, and your heart hangs heavy as a led ball. The punishment of sleep isn’t too far off.", - "As you take a moment to rub the fatigue from your eyes, you briefly wonder what’s worse: waking to the cataclysm or falling asleep to a realm of nightmares.", + "Taking a few seconds to rest your fatigue-weighted head, you quietly wish for the days when the idea of sleep didn't provoke a pang of dread.", + "Your eyelids feel akin to storm shutters, your head's drooping, and your heart hangs heavy as a led ball. The punishment of sleep isn't too far off.", + "As you take a moment to rub the fatigue from your eyes, you briefly wonder what's worse: waking to the cataclysm or falling asleep to a realm of nightmares.", "Your body demands sleep, and your mind begs for its postponement. The tug of war brings tears to your eyes.", "As the voice of slumber whispers at your mind, you feel like a forsaken soul lost in a sea of fatigue. You know the sharks of nightmares are circling.", "You sway listlessly, your head drooping. Dejectedly, you wonder at which point the pains of fatigue will outweigh the terror of sleep.", - "As your shoulders slump below the weight of the day’s exertions, you recall your nightmares and try convincing yourself that they’re not as bad as you make them to be. The mere process of recollection sends butterflies gnawing at your guts.", + "As your shoulders slump below the weight of the day's exertions, you recall your nightmares and try convincing yourself that they're not as bad as you make them to be. The mere process of recollection sends butterflies gnawing at your guts.", "Pinching the bridge of your nose as you rub your eyes, you wish that you could rub away the leftover recollections of your last nightmare from your mind. Only sleep will replace it. You're not looking forward to seeing what it replaces it with." ] } From 992f3abfc8c11bb0f1e2847af50b01ce9b09fe9c Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DoctorBoomstick <102766473+DoctorBoomstick@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Sun, 10 Mar 2024 21:06:32 +0100 Subject: [PATCH 08/18] Thought I was finished lying after the last commit? Hah hah. Axes some words to make the snippets shorter. --- data/json/snippets/nightmares.json | 6 +++--- 1 file changed, 3 insertions(+), 3 deletions(-) diff --git a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json index 3084f533b85f1..0088c34c658f3 100644 --- a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json +++ b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json @@ -56,9 +56,9 @@ "//": "Nightmare snippets for players with the troubled sleep trait that only recount recollections, dreams, and fabricated memories that anyone, regardless of profession, could have had as a result of the Cataclysm. Anything profession-dependent should be placed in an appropriate category.", "//2": "While these can and should stray into the realm of impossibility, for example, a player seeing their dream from the perspective of a zombie, they should be related to things the character might have seen, feared, or heard during the Cataclysm. E.g., having the player in the body of a zombie as they get gunned down by soldiers is fine, but having a dream about falling from an aeroplane into water infested by clowns isn't suitable for this category.", "text": [ - "Still reposed in sleep, a whimper escapes your throat as a dream encroaches upon your mind.\n\nPlumes of mist coil about you as you find yourself staggering through the haze — a flowing wall of silvery grey struck through with black. Underfoot, splintered shards of asphalt slice at your bare soles, your steps growing more sodden and sticky as each tread peals flesh and blood froths from the openings. While agonising, it is nothing to the raw throbbing at your abdomen, the skin of your belly hanging open like a jacket's lapels, pale coils of intestine spilling forth. Between your clenched fists, a stretch of gut hangs from the opening, its end leading into the mist ahead like a guiding thread that you follow.\n\nShuffling along, a flicker of recognition whispers at the back of your mind as you hobble between the hulks of recked vehicles that loom in the fog to either side, your guiding line occasionally requiring you to collapse upon hands and knees and crawl under a car. Following the last such obstacle, as you rise, your shredded foot slides from beneath you, sending you collapsing — the gathered bundle of organs you'd managed to stuff back within yourself cascading forth. As your cheeks grow damp, you look up from the mess of splintered roadwork and throbbing guts — up — at the sprawling bulk of a collapsed homestead that rises from the fog before you.\n\nThrough the mist, you can see the pallid coils that compose the structure and the shuffling, anthropomorphic figures wandering within, glistening wetly. As you watch, one of the humanoids wobbles from a sagging aperture and stands, its oblong head (composed of layer upon layer of coiled strands) turning to face you. Under your prone body, your intestines pulsate. The facsimile of your form pulses in unison. The copy of your home pulses in unison.\n\nYou scream.", + "Still reposed in sleep, a whimper escapes your throat as a dream encroaches upon your mind.\n\nPlumes of mist coil about you as you find yourself staggering through the haze — a flowing wall of silvery grey. Underfoot, splintered shards of asphalt slice at your bare soles, your steps growing more sodden and sticky as each tread peals flesh and blood froths. however, it is nothing to the raw, throbbing agony at your abdomen, the skin of your belly hanging open like a jacket's lapels, pale coils of intestine spilling forth. Between your clenched fists, a stretch of gut hangs from the opening, its end leading into the mist ahead like a guiding thread.\n\nShuffling along, a flicker of recognition whispers at the back of your mind as you hobble between the hulks of recked vehicles that loom in the fog to either side, your guiding line occasionally requiring you to collapse upon hands and knees and crawl under a car. Following the last such obstacle, as you rise, your shredded foot slides from beneath you, sending you collapsing — the gathered bundle of organs you'd managed to stuff back within yourself cascading forth. As your cheeks grow damp, you look up from the mess of splintered roadwork and throbbing guts — up — at the sprawling bulk of a collapsed homestead that rises from the fog before you.\n\nThrough the mist, you can see the pallid coils that compose the structure and the shuffling, anthropomorphic figures wandering within, glistening wetly. As you watch, one of the humanoids wobbles from a sagging aperture and stands, its oblong head (composed of layers of coiled strands) turning to face you. Under your prone body, your intestines pulsate. The facsimile of your form pulses in unison. The copy of your home pulses in unison.\n\nYou scream.", "As the arms of a fresh dream embrace your mind, your expression contorts.\n\nMoss-infested walls enclose a cavernous space floored by steel plates bulging with veins of rust; goosebumps spread across your flesh as cold water drizzles from the roof. A low, thrumming cadence drones in your ears, vibrating through the steel underfoot — the humming of some monstrous, unseen motor at work powering the mechanism that stretches before you. Trundling from an aperture at the room's right and grinding past, a massive conveyor belt groans along; it's rubber tread Layden with a row of neatly placed bodies. As they're born along, you find yourself recognising pallid faces, staring eyes, gaping maws, and bruised flesh forming facsimiles of people you'd encountered during the last days of evacuation: refugees, soldiers, and relief workers.\n\nAs the corpses reach the end of the line and are unceremoniously dumped upon the floor, their limbs contort, cracking noises punctuating the air over the grinding of the belt as they start to flail and wriggle across the steel, worming towards you. Writhing and slithering across one another, they crawl in a loop about you, your stomach churning as the sounds of stretching flesh fill your ears as their necks stretch forth, lifting their heads level with your own. As growing numbers of blood-shot eyes fixate upon you and a forest of extending necks cocoons you, each head jabbers out a singular, unique word: a discordant muddle of phrases that grows more coherent with each body that joins the assembly.\n\n\"We are all you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will be there.\"", - "You twitch restlessly in your sleep as a fresh dream snags you from your sanctity.\n\nA black void fills your vision, a plastic, crinkling sound rustling in your ears as you feel yourself jouncing along, heavy footfalls audible under the swish of the material encasing you. As you wade through a growing mire of claustrophobia and feel blood rush to your head, you register that someone's got a solid hold of your ankles, hauling you like a sack of potatoes. In a stomach-lurching moment, you feel yourself being lifted and heaved through the air, the grip on your legs disappearing as you plummet, crashing upon a partially soft, uneven platform undulating against your spine.\n\nAs you collect your faculties, you spy a slight tare in the plastic, and, greedy for a breath of air and a peep of vision, you press your face against the slit. The blue expanse of the sky winks down upon you, rimmed by the dirt inclines of a pit, as, teaming about the edges, gasmask-wearing soldiers haul, kick, and shove plastic-swaddled bundles into the ditch. As the body bags land heavily upon and about your form, you can feel their reanimating contents struggling against their captivity.\n\nSeparated from the zombies about you by only a few layers of plastic, all you can do is futilely kick and cry for help as the last bags are piled into the ditch atop you, fingers clawing at the material at your back. Overhead, the soldiers withdraw, save for a handful who set about upturning a collection of jerrycans into the trench. As the overpowering smell of gasoline fills your nostrils, you whimper.\n\nMoments before the undead below you rend your plastic barrier, your eyes are blinded as a burning flare is flung into the corpse pit, the light descending like a falling star." + "You twitch restlessly in your sleep as a fresh dream snags you from your sanctity.\n\nA black void fills your vision, a plastic, crinkling sound rustling in your ears as you feel yourself jouncing along, heavy footfalls audible under the swish of the material encasing you. As you wade through a growing mire of claustrophobia, you register that someone's got a solid hold of your ankles, hauling you like a sack of potatoes. In a stomach-lurching moment, you feel yourself being lifted and heaved through the air, the grip on your legs disappearing as you plummet, crashing upon a partially soft, uneven platform undulating against your spine.\n\nAs you collect your faculties, you spy a slight tare in the plastic, and, greedy for a breath of air and a peep of vision, you press your face against the slit. The blue expanse of the sky winks down upon you, rimmed by the dirt inclines of a pit, as, teaming about the edges, gasmask-wearing soldiers haul, kick, and shove plastic-swaddled bundles into the ditch. As the body bags land heavily upon and about your form, you can feel their reanimating contents struggling against their captivity.\n\nSeparated from the zombies about you by only a few layers of plastic, all you can do is futilely kick and cry for help as the last bags are piled into the ditch atop you, fingers clawing at the material at your back. Overhead, the soldiers withdraw, save for a handful who set about upturning a collection of jerrycans into the trench. As the overpowering smell of gasoline fills your nostrils, you whimper.\n\nMoments before the undead below you rend your plastic barrier, your eyes are blinded as a burning flare is flung into the corpse pit, the light descending like a falling star." ] }, { @@ -67,7 +67,7 @@ "//": "Nightmare snippets for players with the troubled sleeper trait that recount dreams exclusively associated with characters that start as active soldiers.", "//2": "While these can and should stray into the realm of impossibility, for example, a player seeing their dream from the perspective of a zombie, they should be related to things the character might have seen, feared, or heard during the Cataclysm. E.g., having the player in the body of a zombie as they get gunned down by soldiers is fine, but having a dream about falling from an aeroplane into water infested by clowns isn't suitable for this category.", "text": [ - "As the teeth of a fresh nightmare snap shut upon your rest, you wimper in your sleep.\n\nRancid mud and black blood cake your uniform as you rock desultorily, your knees pulled to your chest as the tears flowing from your eyes match the thundering rain overhead, drop for drop. Shielded from the tempest by a steel aisleway, vibrating as water cascades across the undercarriage of the antiquated, overturned military truck tented about you, you shiver — your teeth on edge with each groaning creek the battered vehicle emits.\n\nAs metal shrieks and thunder booms, the noises are accompanied by a guttural, nasal grunting, as though the emanations of some gargantuan dog. Yet, somehow, the small voice that's faintly calling in the distance, lost among the rain, is still audible over the maelstrom.\n\n\". ,\" the voice of a fellow soldier, and, before the Cataclysm, your former friend in the forces, , gently calls.\n\n\"Look up, ,\" they softly urge. \"Look up. It'll be easier that way.\"\n\nComplying, your cheeks awash with grief, you spy a lanky, scaled thing struggling to push through the narrow gap between the truck's rear gate and the ground. It's an ebony snout with flared, oozing nostrils and haphazardly grown fangs.\n\n\"It's alright,\" the voice sadly whispers as the muzzle's lips stretch and a muscular, blackish-blue tongue flops forth, its underside lined with dual rows of barbs. \"It'll be alright.\"\n\nLapping at the ground, leaving webs of saliva against the truck's flooring, the organ stretches towards you. The creature crouching beyond the vehicle lets out a frustrated howl, its rotten breath rolling across you as its tongue reaches just shy of your boots.\n\n\", when this is over, find me.\"\n\nAs the melancholic voice of your friend merges with the beast's rising growls, the truck quakes as it succeeds in shoving its whole head into the compartment.\n\n\"Find me... and kill me.\"\n\nYou startle awake, your body drenched in sweat and with the image of your friend's features stretched grotesquely across the monster's skull, branded into your retinas." + "As the teeth of a fresh nightmare snap shut upon your rest, you wimper in your sleep.\n\nRancid mud cakes your uniform as you rock desultorily, your knees pulled to your chest as the tears flowing from your eyes match the thundering rain overhead, drop for drop. Shielded from the tempest by a steel aisleway, vibrating as water cascades across the undercarriage of the antiquated, overturned military truck tented about you, you shiver — your teeth on edge with each groaning creek the battered vehicle emits.\n\nAs metal shrieks and thunder booms, the noises are accompanied by a guttural, nasal grunting, as though the emanations of some gargantuan dog. Yet, somehow, the small voice that's faintly calling in the distance, lost among the rain, is still audible over the maelstrom.\n\n\". ,\" the voice of a fellow soldier, and your former friend in the forces, , gently calls.\n\n\"Look up, ,\" they softly urge. \"Look up. It'll be easier that way.\"\n\nComplying, your cheeks awash with grief, you spy a lanky, scaled thing struggling to push through the narrow gap between the truck's rear gate and the ground. It's an ebony snout with flared, oozing nostrils and haphazardly grown fangs.\n\n\"It's alright,\" the voice sadly whispers as the muzzle's lips stretch and a muscular, blackish-blue tongue flops forth, its underside lined with dual rows of barbs. \"It'll be alright.\"\n\nLapping at the ground, the organ stretches towards you. The creature lets out a frustrated howl, its rotten breath rolling across you as its tongue reaches shy of your boots.\n\n\", when this is over, find me.\"\n\nAs the melancholic voice of your friend merges with the beast's rising growls, the truck quakes as it succeeds in shoving its head into the compartment.\n\n\"Find me... and kill me.\"\n\nYou startle awake, your body drenched in sweat and with the image of your friend's features stretched across the monster's skull, branded into your retinas." ] }, { From 891dc7becdd25e1204c2cf156a61851f24da1833 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DoctorBoomstick <102766473+DoctorBoomstick@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Sun, 10 Mar 2024 23:48:24 +0100 Subject: [PATCH 09/18] Update data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json Co-authored-by: Anton Simakov <67688115+GuardianDll@users.noreply.github.com> --- data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json | 2 +- 1 file changed, 1 insertion(+), 1 deletion(-) diff --git a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json index ed9ee41ddd190..251409c296d3c 100644 --- a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json +++ b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json @@ -10,7 +10,7 @@ "id": "EOC_TROUBLED_SLEEP_FATIGUE_MESSAGES", "//": "Prints a flavour text message to the log about being afraid of sleep if the character has entered the tired status, has the trubbled sleeper trait, and has not taken preventative medication. The EOC’s set to recur every 8 to 20 minutes.", "global": true, - "recurrence": [ 480, 1200 ], + "recurrence": [ "8 minutes", "20 minutes" ], "condition": { "and": [ { "math": [ "u_val('fatigue')", ">", "191" ] }, From 5d4ee81a282a497ecdbf7e29caef9dcba425db62 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DoctorBoomstick <102766473+DoctorBoomstick@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Sun, 10 Mar 2024 23:49:58 +0100 Subject: [PATCH 10/18] Update data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json Co-authored-by: Anton Simakov <67688115+GuardianDll@users.noreply.github.com> --- .../json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json | 29 ++++++++----------- 1 file changed, 12 insertions(+), 17 deletions(-) diff --git a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json index 251409c296d3c..c9fedaced70ba 100644 --- a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json +++ b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json @@ -26,26 +26,21 @@ "//": "prints a message to the log upon the character falling asleep with the troubled sleeper trait. The text changes based on whether the player has taken preventative medication or not. Primarily intended for immersion and to let the player know if their medication, should they have taken it, is going to work to repress nightmares.", "eoc_type": "EVENT", "required_event": "character_falls_asleep", - "condition": { "and": [ { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, { "not": { "u_has_effect": "took_prozac" } } ] }, + "condition": { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, "effect": [ { - "u_message": "As your eyes close, unease brews in your mind, anxiety swirling in your gut. You know the nightmares won't leave you at peace.", - "type": "bad" - } - ], - "false_effect": { - "run_eocs": [ - { - "id": "EOC_TROUBLED_SLEEP_SAFE", - "condition": { "and": [ { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, { "u_has_effect": "took_prozac" } ] }, - "effect": { - "u_message": "Surrendering yourself to the arms of sleep, you hope your medication will let you have a good night’s rest.", - "type": "good" - } + "if": { "u_has_effect": "took_prozac" }, + "then": { + "u_message": "Surrendering yourself to the arms of sleep, you hope your medication will let you have a good night’s rest.", + "type": "good" + }, + "else": { + "u_message": "As your eyes close, unease brews in your mind, anxiety swirling in your gut. You know the nightmares won't leave you at peace.", + "type": "bad" } - ] - } - }, + } + ] + } { "type": "effect_on_condition", "id": "EOC_TROUBLED_SLEEP_SOLDIER_NIGHTMARES", From f67eaceb0a9c51eeea2df4e6169c0f215521196d Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DoctorBoomstick <102766473+DoctorBoomstick@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Mon, 11 Mar 2024 13:50:48 +0100 Subject: [PATCH 11/18] Adds 2 snippets for refugee centre nightmares, and the related EOC. --- .../json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json | 50 +++++++++++++++++++ data/json/snippets/nightmares.json | 42 +++++++++++++--- 2 files changed, 85 insertions(+), 7 deletions(-) diff --git a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json index 527f127f530ff..426753725a784 100644 --- a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json +++ b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json @@ -41,6 +41,56 @@ } ] }, + { + "type": "effect_on_condition", + "id": "EOC_TROUBLED_SLEEP_REFUGEE_NIGHTMARES", + "//": "Generates a nightmare from a particular category dedicated to refugee centre nightmares, provided that the player is sleeping within the centre and has the Troubled Sleeper trait. Upon the character waking up, it presents a pop-up with the nightmare and provides a mood debuff. The EOC’s set to not fire if the player has taken preventative medication.", + "eoc_type": "EVENT", + "required_event": "character_wakes_up", + "condition": { + "and": [ + { "math": [ "dream_counter", "==", "0" ] }, + { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, + { "not": { "u_has_effect": "took_prozac" } }, + { + "or": { + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_1", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_2", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_3", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_4", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_5", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_6", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_7", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_8", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_9", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_10", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_11", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_12", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_13", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_14", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_15", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_16", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_17", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_18", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_19", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_20", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_21", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_22", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_23", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_24", + "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_25" + } + } + ] + }, + "//2": "This does not pull from the snippets used when a player gets nightmares as a result of a portal storm.", + "effect": [ + { "u_message": "nightmares_cataclysm_refugee", "snippet": true, "popup": true, "type": "bad" }, + { "u_add_morale": "morale_nightmare", "bonus": [ -15, -30 ], "max_bonus": -30 }, + { "math": [ "dream_counter", "=", "1" ] }, + { "queue_eocs": "EOC_RESET_DREAM_COUNTER", "time_in_future": 1 } + ] + }, { "type": "effect_on_condition", "id": "EOC_TROUBLED_SLEEP_SOLDIER_NIGHTMARES", diff --git a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json index 0088c34c658f3..018be1b5efec8 100644 --- a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json +++ b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json @@ -53,21 +53,49 @@ { "type": "snippet", "category": "nightmares_cataclysm_general", - "//": "Nightmare snippets for players with the troubled sleep trait that only recount recollections, dreams, and fabricated memories that anyone, regardless of profession, could have had as a result of the Cataclysm. Anything profession-dependent should be placed in an appropriate category.", + "//": "Nightmare snippets for players with the Troubled Sleeper trait that only recount recollections, dreams, and fabricated memories that anyone, regardless of profession, could have had as a result of the Cataclysm. Anything profession-dependent should be placed in an appropriate category.", "//2": "While these can and should stray into the realm of impossibility, for example, a player seeing their dream from the perspective of a zombie, they should be related to things the character might have seen, feared, or heard during the Cataclysm. E.g., having the player in the body of a zombie as they get gunned down by soldiers is fine, but having a dream about falling from an aeroplane into water infested by clowns isn't suitable for this category.", "text": [ - "Still reposed in sleep, a whimper escapes your throat as a dream encroaches upon your mind.\n\nPlumes of mist coil about you as you find yourself staggering through the haze — a flowing wall of silvery grey. Underfoot, splintered shards of asphalt slice at your bare soles, your steps growing more sodden and sticky as each tread peals flesh and blood froths. however, it is nothing to the raw, throbbing agony at your abdomen, the skin of your belly hanging open like a jacket's lapels, pale coils of intestine spilling forth. Between your clenched fists, a stretch of gut hangs from the opening, its end leading into the mist ahead like a guiding thread.\n\nShuffling along, a flicker of recognition whispers at the back of your mind as you hobble between the hulks of recked vehicles that loom in the fog to either side, your guiding line occasionally requiring you to collapse upon hands and knees and crawl under a car. Following the last such obstacle, as you rise, your shredded foot slides from beneath you, sending you collapsing — the gathered bundle of organs you'd managed to stuff back within yourself cascading forth. As your cheeks grow damp, you look up from the mess of splintered roadwork and throbbing guts — up — at the sprawling bulk of a collapsed homestead that rises from the fog before you.\n\nThrough the mist, you can see the pallid coils that compose the structure and the shuffling, anthropomorphic figures wandering within, glistening wetly. As you watch, one of the humanoids wobbles from a sagging aperture and stands, its oblong head (composed of layers of coiled strands) turning to face you. Under your prone body, your intestines pulsate. The facsimile of your form pulses in unison. The copy of your home pulses in unison.\n\nYou scream.", - "As the arms of a fresh dream embrace your mind, your expression contorts.\n\nMoss-infested walls enclose a cavernous space floored by steel plates bulging with veins of rust; goosebumps spread across your flesh as cold water drizzles from the roof. A low, thrumming cadence drones in your ears, vibrating through the steel underfoot — the humming of some monstrous, unseen motor at work powering the mechanism that stretches before you. Trundling from an aperture at the room's right and grinding past, a massive conveyor belt groans along; it's rubber tread Layden with a row of neatly placed bodies. As they're born along, you find yourself recognising pallid faces, staring eyes, gaping maws, and bruised flesh forming facsimiles of people you'd encountered during the last days of evacuation: refugees, soldiers, and relief workers.\n\nAs the corpses reach the end of the line and are unceremoniously dumped upon the floor, their limbs contort, cracking noises punctuating the air over the grinding of the belt as they start to flail and wriggle across the steel, worming towards you. Writhing and slithering across one another, they crawl in a loop about you, your stomach churning as the sounds of stretching flesh fill your ears as their necks stretch forth, lifting their heads level with your own. As growing numbers of blood-shot eyes fixate upon you and a forest of extending necks cocoons you, each head jabbers out a singular, unique word: a discordant muddle of phrases that grows more coherent with each body that joins the assembly.\n\n\"We are all you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will be there.\"", - "You twitch restlessly in your sleep as a fresh dream snags you from your sanctity.\n\nA black void fills your vision, a plastic, crinkling sound rustling in your ears as you feel yourself jouncing along, heavy footfalls audible under the swish of the material encasing you. As you wade through a growing mire of claustrophobia, you register that someone's got a solid hold of your ankles, hauling you like a sack of potatoes. In a stomach-lurching moment, you feel yourself being lifted and heaved through the air, the grip on your legs disappearing as you plummet, crashing upon a partially soft, uneven platform undulating against your spine.\n\nAs you collect your faculties, you spy a slight tare in the plastic, and, greedy for a breath of air and a peep of vision, you press your face against the slit. The blue expanse of the sky winks down upon you, rimmed by the dirt inclines of a pit, as, teaming about the edges, gasmask-wearing soldiers haul, kick, and shove plastic-swaddled bundles into the ditch. As the body bags land heavily upon and about your form, you can feel their reanimating contents struggling against their captivity.\n\nSeparated from the zombies about you by only a few layers of plastic, all you can do is futilely kick and cry for help as the last bags are piled into the ditch atop you, fingers clawing at the material at your back. Overhead, the soldiers withdraw, save for a handful who set about upturning a collection of jerrycans into the trench. As the overpowering smell of gasoline fills your nostrils, you whimper.\n\nMoments before the undead below you rend your plastic barrier, your eyes are blinded as a burning flare is flung into the corpse pit, the light descending like a falling star." + { + "id": "nightmare_general1", + "text": "Still reposed in sleep, a whimper escapes your throat as a dream encroaches upon your mind.\n\nPlumes of mist coil about you as you find yourself staggering through the haze — a flowing wall of silvery grey. Underfoot, splintered shards of asphalt slice at your bare soles, your steps growing more sodden and sticky as each tread peals flesh and blood froths. however, it is nothing to the raw, throbbing agony at your abdomen, the skin of your belly hanging open like a jacket's lapels, pale coils of intestine spilling forth. Between your clenched fists, a stretch of gut hangs from the opening, its end leading into the mist ahead like a guiding thread.\n\nShuffling along, a flicker of recognition whispers at the back of your mind as you hobble between the hulks of recked vehicles that loom in the fog to either side, your guiding line occasionally requiring you to collapse upon hands and knees and crawl under a car. Following the last such obstacle, as you rise, your shredded foot slides from beneath you, sending you collapsing — the gathered bundle of organs you'd managed to stuff back within yourself cascading forth. As your cheeks grow damp, you look up from the mess of splintered roadwork and throbbing guts — up — at the sprawling bulk of a collapsed homestead that rises from the fog before you.\n\nThrough the mist, you can see the pallid coils that compose the structure and the shuffling, anthropomorphic figures wandering within, glistening wetly. As you watch, one of the humanoids wobbles from a sagging aperture and stands, its oblong head (composed of layers of coiled strands) turning to face you. Under your prone body, your intestines pulsate. The facsimile of your form pulses in unison. The copy of your home pulses in unison.\n\nYou scream." + }, + { + "id": "nightmare_general2", + "text": "As the arms of a fresh dream embrace your mind, your expression contorts.\n\nMoss-infested walls enclose a cavernous space floored by steel plates bulging with veins of rust; goosebumps spread across your flesh as cold water drizzles from the roof. A low, thrumming cadence drones in your ears, vibrating through the steel underfoot — the humming of some monstrous, unseen motor at work powering the mechanism that stretches before you. Trundling from an aperture at the room's right and grinding past, a massive conveyor belt groans along; it's rubber tread Layden with a row of neatly placed bodies. As they're born along, you find yourself recognising pallid faces, staring eyes, gaping maws, and bruised flesh forming facsimiles of people you'd encountered during the last days of evacuation: refugees, soldiers, and relief workers.\n\nAs the corpses reach the end of the line and are unceremoniously dumped upon the floor, their limbs contort, cracking noises punctuating the air over the grinding of the belt as they start to flail and wriggle across the steel, worming towards you. Writhing and slithering across one another, they crawl in a loop about you, your stomach churning as the sounds of stretching flesh fill your ears as their necks stretch forth, lifting their heads level with your own. As growing numbers of blood-shot eyes fixate upon you and a forest of extending necks cocoons you, each head jabbers out a singular, unique word: a discordant muddle of phrases that grows more coherent with each body that joins the assembly.\n\n\"We are all you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will\"\n\n\"We are all dead; you escaped; you left us. When you wake up, we will be there.\"" + }, + { + "id": "nightmare_general3", + "text": "You twitch restlessly in your sleep as a fresh dream snags you from your sanctity.\n\nA black void fills your vision, a plastic, crinkling sound rustling in your ears as you feel yourself jouncing along, heavy footfalls audible under the swish of the material encasing you. As you wade through a growing mire of claustrophobia, you register that someone's got a solid hold of your ankles, hauling you like a sack of potatoes. In a stomach-lurching moment, you feel yourself being lifted and heaved through the air, the grip on your legs disappearing as you plummet, crashing upon a partially soft, uneven platform undulating against your spine.\n\nAs you collect your faculties, you spy a slight tare in the plastic, and, greedy for a breath of air and a peep of vision, you press your face against the slit. The blue expanse of the sky winks down upon you, rimmed by the dirt inclines of a pit, as, teaming about the edges, gasmask-wearing soldiers haul, kick, and shove plastic-swaddled bundles into the ditch. As the body bags land heavily upon and about your form, you can feel their reanimating contents struggling against their captivity.\n\nSeparated from the zombies about you by only a few layers of plastic, all you can do is futilely kick and cry for help as the last bags are piled into the ditch atop you, fingers clawing at the material at your back. Overhead, the soldiers withdraw, save for a handful who set about upturning a collection of jerrycans into the trench. As the overpowering smell of gasoline fills your nostrils, you whimper.\n\nMoments before the undead below you rend your plastic barrier, your eyes are blinded as a burning flare is flung into the corpse pit, the light descending like a falling star." + } ] }, { "type": "snippet", "category": "nightmares_cataclysm_soldier", - "//": "Nightmare snippets for players with the troubled sleeper trait that recount dreams exclusively associated with characters that start as active soldiers.", + "//": "Nightmare snippets for players with the Troubled Sleeper trait that recount dreams exclusively associated with characters that start as active soldiers.", "//2": "While these can and should stray into the realm of impossibility, for example, a player seeing their dream from the perspective of a zombie, they should be related to things the character might have seen, feared, or heard during the Cataclysm. E.g., having the player in the body of a zombie as they get gunned down by soldiers is fine, but having a dream about falling from an aeroplane into water infested by clowns isn't suitable for this category.", "text": [ - "As the teeth of a fresh nightmare snap shut upon your rest, you wimper in your sleep.\n\nRancid mud cakes your uniform as you rock desultorily, your knees pulled to your chest as the tears flowing from your eyes match the thundering rain overhead, drop for drop. Shielded from the tempest by a steel aisleway, vibrating as water cascades across the undercarriage of the antiquated, overturned military truck tented about you, you shiver — your teeth on edge with each groaning creek the battered vehicle emits.\n\nAs metal shrieks and thunder booms, the noises are accompanied by a guttural, nasal grunting, as though the emanations of some gargantuan dog. Yet, somehow, the small voice that's faintly calling in the distance, lost among the rain, is still audible over the maelstrom.\n\n\". ,\" the voice of a fellow soldier, and your former friend in the forces, , gently calls.\n\n\"Look up, ,\" they softly urge. \"Look up. It'll be easier that way.\"\n\nComplying, your cheeks awash with grief, you spy a lanky, scaled thing struggling to push through the narrow gap between the truck's rear gate and the ground. It's an ebony snout with flared, oozing nostrils and haphazardly grown fangs.\n\n\"It's alright,\" the voice sadly whispers as the muzzle's lips stretch and a muscular, blackish-blue tongue flops forth, its underside lined with dual rows of barbs. \"It'll be alright.\"\n\nLapping at the ground, the organ stretches towards you. The creature lets out a frustrated howl, its rotten breath rolling across you as its tongue reaches shy of your boots.\n\n\", when this is over, find me.\"\n\nAs the melancholic voice of your friend merges with the beast's rising growls, the truck quakes as it succeeds in shoving its head into the compartment.\n\n\"Find me... and kill me.\"\n\nYou startle awake, your body drenched in sweat and with the image of your friend's features stretched across the monster's skull, branded into your retinas." + { + "id": "nightmare_soldier1", + "text": "As the teeth of a fresh nightmare snap shut upon your rest, you wimper in your sleep.\n\nRancid mud cakes your uniform as you rock desultorily, your knees pulled to your chest as the tears flowing from your eyes match the thundering rain overhead, drop for drop. Shielded from the tempest by a steel aisleway, vibrating as water cascades across the undercarriage of the antiquated, overturned military truck tented about you, you shiver — your teeth on edge with each groaning creek the battered vehicle emits.\n\nAs metal shrieks and thunder booms, the noises are accompanied by a guttural, nasal grunting, as though the emanations of some gargantuan dog. Yet, somehow, the small voice that's faintly calling in the distance, lost among the rain, is still audible over the maelstrom.\n\n\". ,\" the voice of a fellow soldier, and your former friend in the forces, , gently calls.\n\n\"Look up, ,\" they softly urge. \"Look up. It'll be easier that way.\"\n\nComplying, your cheeks awash with grief, you spy a lanky, scaled thing struggling to push through the narrow gap between the truck's rear gate and the ground. It's an ebony snout with flared, oozing nostrils and haphazardly grown fangs.\n\n\"It's alright,\" the voice sadly whispers as the muzzle's lips stretch and a muscular, blackish-blue tongue flops forth, its underside lined with dual rows of barbs. \"It'll be alright.\"\n\nLapping at the ground, the organ stretches towards you. The creature lets out a frustrated howl, its rotten breath rolling across you as its tongue reaches shy of your boots.\n\n\", when this is over, find me.\"\n\nAs the melancholic voice of your friend merges with the beast's rising growls, the truck quakes as it succeeds in shoving its head into the compartment.\n\n\"Find me... and kill me.\"\n\nYou startle awake, your body drenched in sweat and with the image of your friend's features stretched across the monster's skull, branded into your retinas." + } + ] + }, + { + "type": "snippet", + "category": "nightmares_cataclysm_refugee", + "//": "Snippets for players with the Troubled Sleeper trait that trigger when the player character falls asleep within the boundaries of the refugee centre.", + "//2": "While these can and should stray into the realm of impossibility, for example, a player seeing their dream from the perspective of a zombie, they should be related to things the character might have seen, feared, or heard during the Cataclysm. E.g., having the player in the body of a zombie as they get gunned down by soldiers is fine, but having a dream about falling from an aeroplane into water infested by clowns isn't suitable for this category.", + "text": [ + { + "id": "nightmare_refugee1", + "text": "Lost within the hold of a dream, your eyes twitch below their lids.\n\nSpongey pavement squelches underfoot as a plume of spores puffs from bulbous sacks hanging on either side of the refugee centre’s weathered doors, crumbling wood creaking as you push your way past the overgrown entrance. Shafts of watery daylight refract through the empty lobby, greenish grey fronds hanging in droves from the collapsed sections of the roof, carpets of furry Mould sprawling across the floor, and a canopy of fat stalks obscuring the trade windows to either side.\n\nCompelled forward by the cruel nature of dreams, you listlessly shuffle across the room and wander through the building’s debauched hallways, mycelium-coated walls sweating white droplets greeting your gaze wherever you go. Periodically, person-sized sacks of spongey fibres bulge from walls, floors, and rooves, and, as you trace your hands along them, you find polished long bones and spinal columns extending along the wall, knitted amongst one another.\n\nEventually, as you trudge through calf-deep layers of mould, you grow conscious of the fact that your legs have gone numb. You glance down, and, for a moment, you think that you’ve accidentally blundered into a berried collection of bones that's obscuring your legs. The thick strands of dissolving meat clue you in to the fact that the stripped bones you’re seeing are your own." + }, + { + "id": "nightmare_refugee2", + "text": "Sweat breaks out across your forehead as your brain churns within the grasp of a fresh nightmare.\n\nWithin your dream, you find yourself stiffly sitting upon a low, wooden bench, staring at a set of double doors in a room ruled by shadows — the refugee centre’s front lobby. At the corners of your vision, you see the huddled profiles of what you assume to be the building’s Begger and Guard contingent; all though, it’s impossible to be certain: everything’s shrouded in darkness, and you can’t move your head. You can’t control any aspect of your form, in fact.\n\nYou take in the winding detail of the doors’ wood grain, and you cannot avert your eyes. You feel splinters digging through your legwear, and you cannot shift your legs. You sit there for what feels like hours and watch as a spider skitters across your face; you still cannot move. The arachnid hangs before your right eye, spinning a web. You stop watching when the spider’s finished its work and reaches its legs towards your pupal for a meal; you cannot scream even as you feel it depositing eggs.\n\nEntire days roll by in your dreams, and still nothing moves within that room save from the waterfall of baby spiders flowing through your head. Suddenly, the spell’s broken as a ray of daylight blinds your remaining eye: the doors before you creeking open and the muzzle of a cradled, snub-nosed revolver peeps through. It’s soon followed by a heavily bearded face squinting into the space, the survivor’s expression settling into a cadence of disgust.\n\nYou rise from your seat. The other dead shuffle from their own positions. Spiders flow forth from your jaws as you let out a groan, shambling towards the man. The revolver’s muzzle speaks." + } ] }, { @@ -76,7 +104,7 @@ "text": [ "Taking a few seconds to rest your fatigue-weighted head, you quietly wish for the days when the idea of sleep didn't provoke a pang of dread.", "Your eyelids feel akin to storm shutters, your head's drooping, and your heart hangs heavy as a led ball. The punishment of sleep isn't too far off.", - "As you take a moment to rub the fatigue from your eyes, you briefly wonder what's worse: waking to the cataclysm or falling asleep to a realm of nightmares.", + "As you take a moment to rub the fatigue from your eyes, you briefly wonder what's worse: waking to the Cataclysm or falling asleep to a realm of nightmares.", "Your body demands sleep, and your mind begs for its postponement. The tug of war brings tears to your eyes.", "As the voice of slumber whispers at your mind, you feel like a forsaken soul lost in a sea of fatigue. You know the sharks of nightmares are circling.", "You sway listlessly, your head drooping. Dejectedly, you wonder at which point the pains of fatigue will outweigh the terror of sleep.", From 0e8f4eebaab873169411727dbf02d43e8b079618 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DoctorBoomstick <102766473+DoctorBoomstick@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Mon, 11 Mar 2024 14:31:48 +0100 Subject: [PATCH 12/18] Update data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json Co-authored-by: Anton Simakov <67688115+GuardianDll@users.noreply.github.com> --- .../json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json | 54 +++++++++---------- 1 file changed, 27 insertions(+), 27 deletions(-) diff --git a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json index 426753725a784..c25d9a5a83888 100644 --- a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json +++ b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json @@ -53,33 +53,33 @@ { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, { "not": { "u_has_effect": "took_prozac" } }, { - "or": { - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_1", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_2", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_3", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_4", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_5", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_6", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_7", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_8", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_9", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_10", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_11", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_12", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_13", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_14", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_15", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_16", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_17", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_18", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_19", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_20", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_21", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_22", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_23", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_24", - "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_25" - } + "or": [ + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_1" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_2" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_3" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_4" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_5" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_6" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_7" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_8" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_9" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_10" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_11" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_12" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_13" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_14" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_15" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_16" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_17" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_18" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_19" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_20" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_21" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_22" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_23" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_24" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_25" } + ] } ] }, From cf84d96f11ecf6df5f4f13843acf11e57d88fa6f Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DoctorBoomstick <102766473+DoctorBoomstick@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Mon, 11 Mar 2024 22:52:08 +0100 Subject: [PATCH 13/18] new soldier snippet. --- data/json/snippets/nightmares.json | 6 +++++- 1 file changed, 5 insertions(+), 1 deletion(-) diff --git a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json index 018be1b5efec8..b0139ebaa482b 100644 --- a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json +++ b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json @@ -78,7 +78,11 @@ "text": [ { "id": "nightmare_soldier1", - "text": "As the teeth of a fresh nightmare snap shut upon your rest, you wimper in your sleep.\n\nRancid mud cakes your uniform as you rock desultorily, your knees pulled to your chest as the tears flowing from your eyes match the thundering rain overhead, drop for drop. Shielded from the tempest by a steel aisleway, vibrating as water cascades across the undercarriage of the antiquated, overturned military truck tented about you, you shiver — your teeth on edge with each groaning creek the battered vehicle emits.\n\nAs metal shrieks and thunder booms, the noises are accompanied by a guttural, nasal grunting, as though the emanations of some gargantuan dog. Yet, somehow, the small voice that's faintly calling in the distance, lost among the rain, is still audible over the maelstrom.\n\n\". ,\" the voice of a fellow soldier, and your former friend in the forces, , gently calls.\n\n\"Look up, ,\" they softly urge. \"Look up. It'll be easier that way.\"\n\nComplying, your cheeks awash with grief, you spy a lanky, scaled thing struggling to push through the narrow gap between the truck's rear gate and the ground. It's an ebony snout with flared, oozing nostrils and haphazardly grown fangs.\n\n\"It's alright,\" the voice sadly whispers as the muzzle's lips stretch and a muscular, blackish-blue tongue flops forth, its underside lined with dual rows of barbs. \"It'll be alright.\"\n\nLapping at the ground, the organ stretches towards you. The creature lets out a frustrated howl, its rotten breath rolling across you as its tongue reaches shy of your boots.\n\n\", when this is over, find me.\"\n\nAs the melancholic voice of your friend merges with the beast's rising growls, the truck quakes as it succeeds in shoving its head into the compartment.\n\n\"Find me... and kill me.\"\n\nYou startle awake, your body drenched in sweat and with the image of your friend's features stretched across the monster's skull, branded into your retinas." + "text": "As the teeth of a fresh nightmare snap shut upon your rest, you wimper in your sleep.\n\nRancid mud cakes your uniform as you rock desultorily, your knees pulled to your chest as the tears flowing from your eyes match the thundering rain overhead, drop for drop. Shielded from the tempest by a steel aisleway, vibrating as water cascades across the undercarriage of the antiquated, overturned military truck tented about you, you shiver — your teeth on edge with each groaning creek the battered vehicle emits.\n\nAs thunder booms, the noise's accompanied by a guttural, nasal grunting, as though the emanations of some gargantuan dog. Yet, somehow, the small voice that's faintly calling in the distance, lost among the rain, is still audible over the maelstrom.\n\n\". ,\" the voice of a fellow soldier, and your former friend in the forces, , gently calls.\n\n\"Look up, ,\" they softly urge. \"Look up. It'll be easier that way.\"\n\nComplying, your cheeks awash with grief, you spy a lanky, scaled thing struggling to push through the narrow gap between the truck's rear gate and the ground. It's an ebony snout with flared, oozing nostrils and haphazardly grown fangs.\n\n\"It's alright,\" the voice sadly whispers as the muzzle's lips stretch and a muscular, blackish-blue tongue flops forth, its underside lined with dual rows of barbs. \"It'll be alright.\"\n\nThe creature lets out a frustrated howl, its rotten breath rolling across you as its tongue reaches just shy of your boots.\n\n\", when this is over, find me.\"\n\nAs the melancholic voice of your friend merges with the beast's rising growls, the truck quakes as it succeeds in shoving its head into the compartment.\n\n\"Find me... and kill me.\"\n\nYou startle awake, your body drenched in sweat and with the image of your friend's features stretched across the monster's skull, branded into your retinas." + }, + { + "id": "nightmare_soldier2", + "text": "With another dissent into slumber, another nightmare comes whispering through your mind.\n\nA muddle of bodies, gyrating arms, and yelling faces shift before your vision, separated from you by the links of a chain fence strung with barbed wire. Your hair flutters in the wind, tugged by the backwash of jet engines, as you find yourself sandwiched between a large transport plain painted in olive drab idling on an airstrip at your back and the yelling, fenced-away crowd at your front. It’s a scene you know all too well: what military brass would have termed a \"tactical retreat\" of \"priority assets\" from an \"untenable situation,\" in layman’s terms: a military evacuation.\n\nSoldiers run up the aircraft’s loading ramp as you yell for the assembly to keep their distance, half-heartedly razing your rifle as your pleas, lost under the plain’s turbines, go unheeded by the pressing horde. Your attention, however, is drawn further down the line when a sudden uproar flares up — somebody’s breached the fence! Swinging your weapon to face the mass of civilians dogpiling the breach, you hesitate as an elderly man with a shock of white hair pushes through the melee.nnEven in sleep, you grow nauseous when the senior pauses to lift a number of children through the gap before he clambers through himself, urging the young group towards the plain.\n\nHeedless of the fact that your rifle’s laser sight is dancing rings about his forehead, you can barely hear the man bellowing over the tumult, \"YOU BASTARDS, YOU BASTARDS! YOU'RE KILLING US ALL! IF YOU'RE GOING TO RUN, TAKE THEM; TAKE THEM WITH YOU AT LEAST!\"\n\nYou close your eyes. With 12 metres between the group and the plain, you had orders.\n\nThe sharp clack as you cock the rifle succeeds in bringing the last of the children to tears, though they keep coming.\n\n7 metres away, you feel the safety catch clack down below your thumb, and numbly perceive that the man’s wearing spectacles mended with duct tape. They still keep coming.\n\n4 metres, and your laser sight’s painting a red splotch on the man’s chest, inches above the curls of a small child clinging to his abdomen. They don’t stop coming.\n\n2 metres away...\n\nYour eyes burn as you startle awake, your complexion pallid. The children’s screams still reverberate in your head." } ] }, From d3a793a81152ae5de837d6fea1ace90ff1c89be7 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DoctorBoomstick <102766473+DoctorBoomstick@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Wed, 13 Mar 2024 01:50:03 +0100 Subject: [PATCH 14/18] one new general and soldier snippet, changes id of bad_dreams to be in caps, lints lints lints. --- .../json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json | 60 +++++++++---------- data/json/mutations/mutations.json | 2 +- data/json/snippets/nightmares.json | 14 ++++- 3 files changed, 42 insertions(+), 34 deletions(-) diff --git a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json index c25d9a5a83888..6a1f0e769a5c1 100644 --- a/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json +++ b/data/json/effects_on_condition/dream_eocs.json @@ -14,7 +14,7 @@ "condition": { "and": [ { "math": [ "u_val('fatigue')", ">", "191" ] }, - { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, + { "u_has_trait": "BAD_DREAMS" }, { "not": { "u_has_effect": "took_prozac" } } ] }, @@ -26,7 +26,7 @@ "//": "prints a message to the log upon the character falling asleep with the troubled sleeper trait. The text changes based on whether the player has taken preventative medication or not. Primarily intended for immersion and to let the player know if their medication, should they have taken it, is going to work to repress nightmares.", "eoc_type": "EVENT", "required_event": "character_falls_asleep", - "condition": { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, + "condition": { "u_has_trait": "BAD_DREAMS" }, "effect": [ { "if": { "u_has_effect": "took_prozac" }, @@ -50,35 +50,35 @@ "condition": { "and": [ { "math": [ "dream_counter", "==", "0" ] }, - { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, + { "u_has_trait": "BAD_DREAMS" }, { "not": { "u_has_effect": "took_prozac" } }, { "or": [ - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_1" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_2" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_3" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_4" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_5" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_6" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_7" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_8" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_9" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_10" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_11" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_12" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_13" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_14" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_15" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_16" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_17" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_18" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_19" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_20" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_21" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_22" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_23" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_24" }, - { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_25" } + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_1" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_2" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_3" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_4" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_5" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_6" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_7" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_8" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_9" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_10" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_11" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_12" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_13" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_14" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_15" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_16" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_17" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_18" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_19" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_20" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_21" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_22" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_23" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_24" }, + { "u_at_om_location": "evac_center_25" } ] } ] @@ -100,7 +100,7 @@ "condition": { "and": [ { "math": [ "dream_counter", "==", "0" ] }, - { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, + { "u_has_trait": "BAD_DREAMS" }, { "not": { "u_has_effect": "took_prozac" } }, { "or": { @@ -140,7 +140,7 @@ "condition": { "and": [ { "math": [ "dream_counter", "==", "0" ] }, - { "u_has_trait": "bad_dreams" }, + { "u_has_trait": "BAD_DREAMS" }, { "not": { "u_has_effect": "took_prozac" } } ] }, diff --git a/data/json/mutations/mutations.json b/data/json/mutations/mutations.json index 3dc65a95f6f7a..4a7ef4fb4b31d 100644 --- a/data/json/mutations/mutations.json +++ b/data/json/mutations/mutations.json @@ -9773,7 +9773,7 @@ }, { "type": "mutation", - "id": "bad_dreams", + "id": "BAD_DREAMS", "name": { "str": "Troubled Sleeper" }, "points": -2, "description": "Disturbing events tend to stick to your psyche, and the cataclysm has left you with more than your fair share of psychological trauma. Now, not even slumber can rest you from your fears; nightmares will plague your sleep if you don’t keep them at bay with anti-depressants.", diff --git a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json index b0139ebaa482b..1e756f23f0ed8 100644 --- a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json +++ b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json @@ -67,6 +67,10 @@ { "id": "nightmare_general3", "text": "You twitch restlessly in your sleep as a fresh dream snags you from your sanctity.\n\nA black void fills your vision, a plastic, crinkling sound rustling in your ears as you feel yourself jouncing along, heavy footfalls audible under the swish of the material encasing you. As you wade through a growing mire of claustrophobia, you register that someone's got a solid hold of your ankles, hauling you like a sack of potatoes. In a stomach-lurching moment, you feel yourself being lifted and heaved through the air, the grip on your legs disappearing as you plummet, crashing upon a partially soft, uneven platform undulating against your spine.\n\nAs you collect your faculties, you spy a slight tare in the plastic, and, greedy for a breath of air and a peep of vision, you press your face against the slit. The blue expanse of the sky winks down upon you, rimmed by the dirt inclines of a pit, as, teaming about the edges, gasmask-wearing soldiers haul, kick, and shove plastic-swaddled bundles into the ditch. As the body bags land heavily upon and about your form, you can feel their reanimating contents struggling against their captivity.\n\nSeparated from the zombies about you by only a few layers of plastic, all you can do is futilely kick and cry for help as the last bags are piled into the ditch atop you, fingers clawing at the material at your back. Overhead, the soldiers withdraw, save for a handful who set about upturning a collection of jerrycans into the trench. As the overpowering smell of gasoline fills your nostrils, you whimper.\n\nMoments before the undead below you rend your plastic barrier, your eyes are blinded as a burning flare is flung into the corpse pit, the light descending like a falling star." + }, + { + "id": "nightmare_general4", + "text": "Your arms tighten about your form as you sleep — the past returning to haunt you.\n\nAs the dreamscape assumes materiality, your ears and nerves alike are put under duress as a high-pitched, plaintive wailing bawls through your mind, your knuckles turning white as you grip the folding armrests of the bucket seat you find yourself within. Staring ahead yields the dishevelled vista of a bus's interior, the stench of Greece, and body odour clawing at your nostrils. Bedraggled, hunched, with faces creased by fear, people huddle within every seat abord, each perfectly silent and, to a passenger, staring ahead at the vehicle's tinted windscreen. As the infantile crying continues unabated, you glance out of your own window.\n\nYou vainly try to convince yourself that the fleshy, metre-tall thing your eyes land upon beyond the glass, half stalking and half slithering towards the bus, couldn't have once been human. Nothing with an internal skeleton should be able to wriggle its entire head in such a manner or slouch across the ground as though walking on rubberized legs.\n\nRegardless, as the aberrant monstrosity draws nearer, it becomes evident that the creature's march towards the transport isn't guided by its eyes: berried within floppy slits exuding a green mucus. Rather, the way its squid-like head twists and turns as it walks, pauses, and then reassumes its stride could only signal the alure of sound — the wailing. Yet, your attention's suddenly diverted by the plastic creek of the bus's aisleway as, turning, you find a soldier stomping past, making a B-line aft, towards the infant's increasingly animal-like screams.\n\nEveryone aboard mutely cowers as the military man storms down the passage. The hard look on his face and the glint of a drawn bayonet don't escape your notice before you follow your compatriots' example.\n\nA few, terrible seconds later, your dream lapses into wakefulness: cut, as though by a blade through tender flesh." } ] }, @@ -82,7 +86,11 @@ }, { "id": "nightmare_soldier2", - "text": "With another dissent into slumber, another nightmare comes whispering through your mind.\n\nA muddle of bodies, gyrating arms, and yelling faces shift before your vision, separated from you by the links of a chain fence strung with barbed wire. Your hair flutters in the wind, tugged by the backwash of jet engines, as you find yourself sandwiched between a large transport plain painted in olive drab idling on an airstrip at your back and the yelling, fenced-away crowd at your front. It’s a scene you know all too well: what military brass would have termed a \"tactical retreat\" of \"priority assets\" from an \"untenable situation,\" in layman’s terms: a military evacuation.\n\nSoldiers run up the aircraft’s loading ramp as you yell for the assembly to keep their distance, half-heartedly razing your rifle as your pleas, lost under the plain’s turbines, go unheeded by the pressing horde. Your attention, however, is drawn further down the line when a sudden uproar flares up — somebody’s breached the fence! Swinging your weapon to face the mass of civilians dogpiling the breach, you hesitate as an elderly man with a shock of white hair pushes through the melee.nnEven in sleep, you grow nauseous when the senior pauses to lift a number of children through the gap before he clambers through himself, urging the young group towards the plain.\n\nHeedless of the fact that your rifle’s laser sight is dancing rings about his forehead, you can barely hear the man bellowing over the tumult, \"YOU BASTARDS, YOU BASTARDS! YOU'RE KILLING US ALL! IF YOU'RE GOING TO RUN, TAKE THEM; TAKE THEM WITH YOU AT LEAST!\"\n\nYou close your eyes. With 12 metres between the group and the plain, you had orders.\n\nThe sharp clack as you cock the rifle succeeds in bringing the last of the children to tears, though they keep coming.\n\n7 metres away, you feel the safety catch clack down below your thumb, and numbly perceive that the man’s wearing spectacles mended with duct tape. They still keep coming.\n\n4 metres, and your laser sight’s painting a red splotch on the man’s chest, inches above the curls of a small child clinging to his abdomen. They don’t stop coming.\n\n2 metres away...\n\nYour eyes burn as you startle awake, your complexion pallid. The children’s screams still reverberate in your head." + "text": "With another dissent into slumber, another nightmare comes whispering through your mind.\n\nA muddle of bodies, gyrating arms, and yelling faces shift before your vision, separated from you by the links of a chain fence strung with barbed wire. Your hair flutters in the wind, tugged by the backwash of jet engines, as you find yourself sandwiched between a large transport plain painted in olive drab idling on an airstrip at your back and the yelling, fenced-away crowd at your front. It's a scene you know all too well: what military brass would have termed a \"tactical retreat\" of \"priority assets\" from an \"untenable situation,\" in layman's terms: a military evacuation.\n\nSoldiers run up the aircraft's loading ramp as you yell for the assembly to keep their distance, half-heartedly razing your rifle as your pleas, lost under the plain's turbines, go unheeded by the pressing horde. Your attention, however, is drawn further down the line when a sudden uproar flares up — somebody's breached the fence! Swinging your weapon to face the mass of civilians dogpiling the breach, you hesitate as an elderly man with a shock of white hair pushes through the melee.nnEven in sleep, you grow nauseous when the senior pauses to lift a number of children through the gap before he clambers through himself, urging the young group towards the plain.\n\nHeedless of the fact that your rifle's laser sight is dancing rings about his forehead, you can barely hear the man bellowing over the tumult, \"YOU BASTARDS, YOU BASTARDS! YOU'RE KILLING US ALL! IF YOU'RE GOING TO RUN, TAKE THEM; TAKE THEM WITH YOU AT LEAST!\"\n\nYou close your eyes. With 12 metres between the group and the plain, you had orders.\n\nThe sharp clack as you cock the rifle succeeds in bringing the last of the children to tears, though they keep coming.\n\n7 metres away, you feel the safety catch clack down below your thumb, and numbly perceive that the man's wearing spectacles mended with duct tape. They still keep coming.\n\n4 metres, and your laser sight's painting a red splotch on the man's chest, inches above the curls of a small child clinging to his abdomen. They don't stop coming.\n\n2 metres away...\n\nYour eyes burn as you startle awake, your complexion pallid. The children's screams still reverberate in your head." + }, + { + "id": "nightmare_soldier3", + "text": "Dream and memory merge into one once again as a nightmare oozes into your sleep.\n\nYou're cascading down an earthen embankment, dirt showering over you as you roll and tumble, your eyes pulsating in your sockets as melding arrays of blacks, purples, and ochre shades assault your vision. Down-drafts tug at the luce folds of your equipment, the scream of approaching helicopter rotors slicing directly overhead as you're flung to the soil, a sequence of whistling emanations pipe in the distance, and the earth quakes. rolling to your back, rifle clutched to your chest, and a nose bleed painting red webs across your face, your pupils contract as a filigree of white bursts across the horizon in intermittent sequences: a symphony of staccato gun pods and teeth-rattling detonations compressing upon your eardrums.\n\nBackpedalling on the slope above you, shrouded in darkness save for the ethereal light refracting off their helmet, another soldier descends towards you, their bodies shaking as a stream of casings bounces down the incline from their Minimi as they fire over the lip. You know it's worthless. You nestle yourself deeper into the soil as you brace yourself; over the machinegun's rattling, you hear a manically swift series of titanic thwacks thundering closer — as though a monstrous drum heralding something's arrival. You don't need to wait long.\n\nA massive appendage shoots over the embankment and crashes through the soldier's face, bursting through their back and hoisting them skywards. At least, you'd call it skywards were it not for the fact that the sky's freshly obscured by the undulating profile of the tentacle's owner. You couldn't call it a starfish. Starfish don't blot out the heavens, suspended on their five appendages. They aren't covered in bone reeds that pipe out a terrible whistling as it crawls over the environment.\n\nThe soldier's dragged up. You hear a sound not unlike a nutcracker at work. Red, copper-scented rain spatters across you." } ] }, @@ -94,11 +102,11 @@ "text": [ { "id": "nightmare_refugee1", - "text": "Lost within the hold of a dream, your eyes twitch below their lids.\n\nSpongey pavement squelches underfoot as a plume of spores puffs from bulbous sacks hanging on either side of the refugee centre’s weathered doors, crumbling wood creaking as you push your way past the overgrown entrance. Shafts of watery daylight refract through the empty lobby, greenish grey fronds hanging in droves from the collapsed sections of the roof, carpets of furry Mould sprawling across the floor, and a canopy of fat stalks obscuring the trade windows to either side.\n\nCompelled forward by the cruel nature of dreams, you listlessly shuffle across the room and wander through the building’s debauched hallways, mycelium-coated walls sweating white droplets greeting your gaze wherever you go. Periodically, person-sized sacks of spongey fibres bulge from walls, floors, and rooves, and, as you trace your hands along them, you find polished long bones and spinal columns extending along the wall, knitted amongst one another.\n\nEventually, as you trudge through calf-deep layers of mould, you grow conscious of the fact that your legs have gone numb. You glance down, and, for a moment, you think that you’ve accidentally blundered into a berried collection of bones that's obscuring your legs. The thick strands of dissolving meat clue you in to the fact that the stripped bones you’re seeing are your own." + "text": "Lost within the hold of a dream, your eyes twitch below their lids.\n\nSpongey pavement squelches underfoot as a plume of spores puffs from bulbous sacks hanging on either side of the refugee centre's weathered doors, crumbling wood creaking as you push your way past the overgrown entrance. Shafts of watery daylight refract through the empty lobby, greenish grey fronds hanging in droves from the collapsed sections of the roof, carpets of furry Mould sprawling across the floor, and a canopy of fat stalks obscuring the trade windows to either side.\n\nCompelled forward by the cruel nature of dreams, you listlessly shuffle across the room and wander through the building's debauched hallways, mycelium-coated walls sweating white droplets greeting your gaze wherever you go. Periodically, person-sized sacks of spongey fibres bulge from walls, floors, and rooves, and, as you trace your hands along them, you find polished long bones and spinal columns extending along the wall, knitted amongst one another.\n\nEventually, as you trudge through calf-deep layers of mould, you grow conscious of the fact that your legs have gone numb. You glance down, and, for a moment, you think that you've accidentally blundered into a berried collection of bones that's obscuring your legs. The thick strands of dissolving meat clue you in to the fact that the stripped bones you're seeing are your own." }, { "id": "nightmare_refugee2", - "text": "Sweat breaks out across your forehead as your brain churns within the grasp of a fresh nightmare.\n\nWithin your dream, you find yourself stiffly sitting upon a low, wooden bench, staring at a set of double doors in a room ruled by shadows — the refugee centre’s front lobby. At the corners of your vision, you see the huddled profiles of what you assume to be the building’s Begger and Guard contingent; all though, it’s impossible to be certain: everything’s shrouded in darkness, and you can’t move your head. You can’t control any aspect of your form, in fact.\n\nYou take in the winding detail of the doors’ wood grain, and you cannot avert your eyes. You feel splinters digging through your legwear, and you cannot shift your legs. You sit there for what feels like hours and watch as a spider skitters across your face; you still cannot move. The arachnid hangs before your right eye, spinning a web. You stop watching when the spider’s finished its work and reaches its legs towards your pupal for a meal; you cannot scream even as you feel it depositing eggs.\n\nEntire days roll by in your dreams, and still nothing moves within that room save from the waterfall of baby spiders flowing through your head. Suddenly, the spell’s broken as a ray of daylight blinds your remaining eye: the doors before you creeking open and the muzzle of a cradled, snub-nosed revolver peeps through. It’s soon followed by a heavily bearded face squinting into the space, the survivor’s expression settling into a cadence of disgust.\n\nYou rise from your seat. The other dead shuffle from their own positions. Spiders flow forth from your jaws as you let out a groan, shambling towards the man. The revolver’s muzzle speaks." + "text": "Sweat breaks out across your forehead as your brain churns within the grasp of a fresh nightmare.\n\nWithin your dream, you find yourself stiffly sitting upon a low, wooden bench, staring at a set of double doors in a room ruled by shadows — the refugee centre's front lobby. At the corners of your vision, you see the huddled profiles of what you assume to be the building's Begger and Guard contingent; all though, it's impossible to be certain: everything's shrouded in darkness, and you can't move your head. You can't control any aspect of your form, in fact.\n\nYou take in the winding detail of the doors' wood grain, and you cannot avert your eyes. You feel splinters digging through your legwear, and you cannot shift your legs. You sit there for what feels like hours and watch as a spider skitters across your face; you still cannot move. The arachnid hangs before your right eye, spinning a web. You stop watching when the spider's finished its work and reaches its legs towards your pupal for a meal; you cannot scream even as you feel it depositing eggs.\n\nEntire days roll by in your dreams, and still nothing moves within that room save from the waterfall of baby spiders flowing through your head. Suddenly, the spell's broken as a ray of daylight blinds your remaining eye: the doors before you creeking open and the muzzle of a cradled, snub-nosed revolver peeps through. It's soon followed by a heavily bearded face squinting into the space, the survivor's expression settling into a cadence of disgust.\n\nYou rise from your seat. The other dead shuffle from their own positions. Spiders flow forth from your jaws as you let out a groan, shambling towards the man. The revolver's muzzle speaks." } ] }, From 2c97cf6a3e2fc1999334245eb77f649aed5796cb Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DoctorBoomstick <102766473+DoctorBoomstick@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Fri, 22 Mar 2024 00:38:49 +0100 Subject: [PATCH 15/18] remakes the soldier nightmare snippets. --- data/json/snippets/nightmares.json | 6 +++--- 1 file changed, 3 insertions(+), 3 deletions(-) diff --git a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json index 1e756f23f0ed8..1359eb1a7bbdb 100644 --- a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json +++ b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json @@ -82,15 +82,15 @@ "text": [ { "id": "nightmare_soldier1", - "text": "As the teeth of a fresh nightmare snap shut upon your rest, you wimper in your sleep.\n\nRancid mud cakes your uniform as you rock desultorily, your knees pulled to your chest as the tears flowing from your eyes match the thundering rain overhead, drop for drop. Shielded from the tempest by a steel aisleway, vibrating as water cascades across the undercarriage of the antiquated, overturned military truck tented about you, you shiver — your teeth on edge with each groaning creek the battered vehicle emits.\n\nAs thunder booms, the noise's accompanied by a guttural, nasal grunting, as though the emanations of some gargantuan dog. Yet, somehow, the small voice that's faintly calling in the distance, lost among the rain, is still audible over the maelstrom.\n\n\". ,\" the voice of a fellow soldier, and your former friend in the forces, , gently calls.\n\n\"Look up, ,\" they softly urge. \"Look up. It'll be easier that way.\"\n\nComplying, your cheeks awash with grief, you spy a lanky, scaled thing struggling to push through the narrow gap between the truck's rear gate and the ground. It's an ebony snout with flared, oozing nostrils and haphazardly grown fangs.\n\n\"It's alright,\" the voice sadly whispers as the muzzle's lips stretch and a muscular, blackish-blue tongue flops forth, its underside lined with dual rows of barbs. \"It'll be alright.\"\n\nThe creature lets out a frustrated howl, its rotten breath rolling across you as its tongue reaches just shy of your boots.\n\n\", when this is over, find me.\"\n\nAs the melancholic voice of your friend merges with the beast's rising growls, the truck quakes as it succeeds in shoving its head into the compartment.\n\n\"Find me... and kill me.\"\n\nYou startle awake, your body drenched in sweat and with the image of your friend's features stretched across the monster's skull, branded into your retinas." + "text": "You have a dream about playing with a set of toy soldiers until, suddenly, you find them slipping from your grasp and swarming about your feet. Peering nearer, you realise that they’re each a miniature member of your former unit — their screams reaching you as squads of them are splattered below. Wakefulness crashes upon you when you glance at yourself, only to find an oozing mass writhing before your eyes." }, { "id": "nightmare_soldier2", - "text": "With another dissent into slumber, another nightmare comes whispering through your mind.\n\nA muddle of bodies, gyrating arms, and yelling faces shift before your vision, separated from you by the links of a chain fence strung with barbed wire. Your hair flutters in the wind, tugged by the backwash of jet engines, as you find yourself sandwiched between a large transport plain painted in olive drab idling on an airstrip at your back and the yelling, fenced-away crowd at your front. It's a scene you know all too well: what military brass would have termed a \"tactical retreat\" of \"priority assets\" from an \"untenable situation,\" in layman's terms: a military evacuation.\n\nSoldiers run up the aircraft's loading ramp as you yell for the assembly to keep their distance, half-heartedly razing your rifle as your pleas, lost under the plain's turbines, go unheeded by the pressing horde. Your attention, however, is drawn further down the line when a sudden uproar flares up — somebody's breached the fence! Swinging your weapon to face the mass of civilians dogpiling the breach, you hesitate as an elderly man with a shock of white hair pushes through the melee.nnEven in sleep, you grow nauseous when the senior pauses to lift a number of children through the gap before he clambers through himself, urging the young group towards the plain.\n\nHeedless of the fact that your rifle's laser sight is dancing rings about his forehead, you can barely hear the man bellowing over the tumult, \"YOU BASTARDS, YOU BASTARDS! YOU'RE KILLING US ALL! IF YOU'RE GOING TO RUN, TAKE THEM; TAKE THEM WITH YOU AT LEAST!\"\n\nYou close your eyes. With 12 metres between the group and the plain, you had orders.\n\nThe sharp clack as you cock the rifle succeeds in bringing the last of the children to tears, though they keep coming.\n\n7 metres away, you feel the safety catch clack down below your thumb, and numbly perceive that the man's wearing spectacles mended with duct tape. They still keep coming.\n\n4 metres, and your laser sight's painting a red splotch on the man's chest, inches above the curls of a small child clinging to his abdomen. They don't stop coming.\n\n2 metres away...\n\nYour eyes burn as you startle awake, your complexion pallid. The children's screams still reverberate in your head." + "text": "In your dreams, you find yourself sitting in a stationary, armoured vehicle, staring at an endless sea of zombies that crowd, gnaw, and smash upon the automobile. Every window’s obscured by legions of leering faces, with the military craft’s windscreen slowly spider-webbing under the crush of bodies and hands. The sound of shattering glass jolts you awake, moments after rotten hands and snapping jaws start stretching through the breached apertures." }, { "id": "nightmare_soldier3", - "text": "Dream and memory merge into one once again as a nightmare oozes into your sleep.\n\nYou're cascading down an earthen embankment, dirt showering over you as you roll and tumble, your eyes pulsating in your sockets as melding arrays of blacks, purples, and ochre shades assault your vision. Down-drafts tug at the luce folds of your equipment, the scream of approaching helicopter rotors slicing directly overhead as you're flung to the soil, a sequence of whistling emanations pipe in the distance, and the earth quakes. rolling to your back, rifle clutched to your chest, and a nose bleed painting red webs across your face, your pupils contract as a filigree of white bursts across the horizon in intermittent sequences: a symphony of staccato gun pods and teeth-rattling detonations compressing upon your eardrums.\n\nBackpedalling on the slope above you, shrouded in darkness save for the ethereal light refracting off their helmet, another soldier descends towards you, their bodies shaking as a stream of casings bounces down the incline from their Minimi as they fire over the lip. You know it's worthless. You nestle yourself deeper into the soil as you brace yourself; over the machinegun's rattling, you hear a manically swift series of titanic thwacks thundering closer — as though a monstrous drum heralding something's arrival. You don't need to wait long.\n\nA massive appendage shoots over the embankment and crashes through the soldier's face, bursting through their back and hoisting them skywards. At least, you'd call it skywards were it not for the fact that the sky's freshly obscured by the undulating profile of the tentacle's owner. You couldn't call it a starfish. Starfish don't blot out the heavens, suspended on their five appendages. They aren't covered in bone reeds that pipe out a terrible whistling as it crawls over the environment.\n\nThe soldier's dragged up. You hear a sound not unlike a nutcracker at work. Red, copper-scented rain spatters across you." + "text": "In your dreams, you scramble through a landscape alive with the thunder of ordinance, the ground shaking as you drop into cover, only to come face-to-face with a fellow member of your unit. Before either of you can react, the soldier’s impaled by an enormous, otherworldly monster, spraying you with viscera. You startle awake, taking a few heartbeats to assure yourself that all you’re drenched in is your own sweat." } ] }, From 77880db3f214b8974898999a092c41d6c80bf8c1 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DoctorBoomstick <102766473+DoctorBoomstick@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Sun, 24 Mar 2024 10:06:14 +0100 Subject: [PATCH 16/18] cupple new soldier snippets. --- data/json/snippets/nightmares.json | 8 ++++++++ 1 file changed, 8 insertions(+) diff --git a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json index 6e164b88ba850..ac1a2cbd8d1e8 100644 --- a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json +++ b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json @@ -97,6 +97,14 @@ { "id": "nightmare_soldier3", "text": "In your dreams, you scramble through a landscape alive with the thunder of ordinance, the ground shaking as you drop into cover, only to come face-to-face with a fellow member of your unit. Before either of you can react, the soldier’s impaled by an enormous, otherworldly monster, spraying you with viscera. You startle awake, taking a few heartbeats to assure yourself that all you’re drenched in is your own sweat." + }, + { + "id": "nightmare_soldier4", + "text": "You have a dream in which you’re being reprimanded by your senior officer, who stands with their back to you, coldly chastising you for failing to save your comrades. Your feeble protestations fall on deaf ears. These protests crash to a halt as soon as the officer turns to face you. The thing occupying your officer’s skin wishes you a \"good morning\" and mildly suggests failing yourself as well, if you don’t want to see it again." + }, + { + "id": "nightmare_soldier5", + "text": "You open your eyes and find yourself within a barracks from one of your assignments, bustling with personnel from your former unit. You wander about, falling into conversation with the soldiers: some wistfully reminisce about the past, others poke fun over an aspect of your recent exploits — all of them recount how they died in the Cataclysm. When you awake, before the dream fades, you’re undecided whether you’re glad it was just a dream or devastated." } ] }, From 8376a2c69402cd93c47f817c9acc1a0fe39cc706 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DoctorBoomstick <102766473+DoctorBoomstick@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Wed, 1 May 2024 19:56:54 +0200 Subject: [PATCH 17/18] well, look who recalled that this PR still exists. adds 7 new soldier snippets. --- data/json/snippets/nightmares.json | 33 ++++++++++++------------------ 1 file changed, 13 insertions(+), 20 deletions(-) diff --git a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json index ac1a2cbd8d1e8..55674e3269efc 100644 --- a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json +++ b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json @@ -61,6 +61,7 @@ "category": "nightmares_cataclysm_general", "//": "Nightmare snippets for players with the Troubled Sleeper trait that only recount recollections, dreams, and fabricated memories that anyone, regardless of profession, could have had as a result of the Cataclysm. Anything profession-dependent should be placed in an appropriate category.", "//2": "While these can and should stray into the realm of impossibility, for example, a player seeing their dream from the perspective of a zombie, they should be related to things the character might have seen, feared, or heard during the Cataclysm. E.g., having the player in the body of a zombie as they get gunned down by soldiers is fine, but having a dream about falling from an aeroplane into water infested by clowns isn't suitable for this category.", + "//3": "When writing nightmares, take care to (1) ensure they are generic enough that getting the same nightmare twice in a row isn't too weird, and (2) that they don't assume anything about the person having them. If your nightmare reads like a horror story or creepypasta, it is probably going too far. In general, avoid too much description.", "text": [ { "id": "nightmare_general1", @@ -86,26 +87,18 @@ "//": "Nightmare snippets for players with the Troubled Sleeper trait that recount dreams exclusively associated with characters that start as active soldiers.", "//2": "While these can and should stray into the realm of impossibility, for example, a player seeing their dream from the perspective of a zombie, they should be related to things the character might have seen, feared, or heard during the Cataclysm. E.g., having the player in the body of a zombie as they get gunned down by soldiers is fine, but having a dream about falling from an aeroplane into water infested by clowns isn't suitable for this category.", "text": [ - { - "id": "nightmare_soldier1", - "text": "You have a dream about playing with a set of toy soldiers until, suddenly, you find them slipping from your grasp and swarming about your feet. Peering nearer, you realise that they’re each a miniature member of your former unit — their screams reaching you as squads of them are splattered below. Wakefulness crashes upon you when you glance at yourself, only to find an oozing mass writhing before your eyes." - }, - { - "id": "nightmare_soldier2", - "text": "In your dreams, you find yourself sitting in a stationary, armoured vehicle, staring at an endless sea of zombies that crowd, gnaw, and smash upon the automobile. Every window’s obscured by legions of leering faces, with the military craft’s windscreen slowly spider-webbing under the crush of bodies and hands. The sound of shattering glass jolts you awake, moments after rotten hands and snapping jaws start stretching through the breached apertures." - }, - { - "id": "nightmare_soldier3", - "text": "In your dreams, you scramble through a landscape alive with the thunder of ordinance, the ground shaking as you drop into cover, only to come face-to-face with a fellow member of your unit. Before either of you can react, the soldier’s impaled by an enormous, otherworldly monster, spraying you with viscera. You startle awake, taking a few heartbeats to assure yourself that all you’re drenched in is your own sweat." - }, - { - "id": "nightmare_soldier4", - "text": "You have a dream in which you’re being reprimanded by your senior officer, who stands with their back to you, coldly chastising you for failing to save your comrades. Your feeble protestations fall on deaf ears. These protests crash to a halt as soon as the officer turns to face you. The thing occupying your officer’s skin wishes you a \"good morning\" and mildly suggests failing yourself as well, if you don’t want to see it again." - }, - { - "id": "nightmare_soldier5", - "text": "You open your eyes and find yourself within a barracks from one of your assignments, bustling with personnel from your former unit. You wander about, falling into conversation with the soldiers: some wistfully reminisce about the past, others poke fun over an aspect of your recent exploits — all of them recount how they died in the Cataclysm. When you awake, before the dream fades, you’re undecided whether you’re glad it was just a dream or devastated." - } + "You have a dream about playing with a set of toy soldiers until, suddenly, you find them slipping from your grasp and swarming about your feet. Peering nearer, you realise that they’re each a miniature member of your former unit — their screams reaching you as squads of them are splattered below. Wakefulness crashes upon you when you glance at yourself, only to find an oozing mass writhing before your eyes.", + "In your dreams, you find yourself sitting in a stationary, armoured vehicle, staring at an endless sea of zombies that crowd, gnaw, and smash upon the automobile. Every window’s obscured by legions of leering faces, with the military craft’s windscreen slowly spider-webbing under the crush of bodies and hands. The sound of shattering glass jolts you awake, moments after rotten hands and snapping jaws start stretching through the breached apertures.", + "In your dreams, you scramble through a landscape alive with the thunder of ordinance, the ground shaking as you drop into cover, only to come face-to-face with a fellow member of your unit. Before either of you can react, the soldier’s impaled by an enormous, otherworldly monster, spraying you with viscera. You startle awake, taking a few heartbeats to assure yourself that all you’re drenched in is your own sweat.", + "You have a dream in which you’re being reprimanded by your senior officer, who stands with their back to you, coldly chastising you for failing to save your comrades. Your feeble protestations fall on deaf ears. These protests crash to a halt as soon as the officer turns to face you. The thing occupying your officer’s skin wishes you a \"good morning\" and mildly suggests failing yourself as well, if you don’t want to see it again.", + "You open your eyes and find yourself within a barracks from one of your prior assignments, bustling with personnel from your former unit. You wander about, falling into conversation with the soldiers: some wistfully reminisce about the past, others poke fun over an aspect of your recent exploits — all of them recount how they died in the Cataclysm. When you awake, before the dream fades, you’re undecided whether you’re glad it was just a dream or devastated.", + "In your dreams, you’re sitting within a deserted, military mess hall, the Russell of aluminium foil and smell of food greeting your senses as you find yourself gazing upon an MRE package. The smell’s mouth-watering, and with a fork in hand, you go in for a bite. Suddenly, a black tentacle shoots out of the container and grasps the utensil, tugging it back into the package. This is soon followed by your entire body — you’re dragged into the fanged void that used to be the MRE.", + "You open your eyes, and your stomach lurches as you’re sent flailing through the pitching cabin of a helicopter, warning Clackson’s blaring as a roulette wheel of sky, clouds, and oily water windmills past the windows. Moments before the aircraft crashes into the lazily undulating sea, you see a giant, inky-black shadow darkening the water’s surface. A shriek of metal, an explosion of glass, and the cold sting of water rip you back to wakefulness.", + "Within the realms of sleep, you’re sitting in a room, cleaning your issued service weapon. After a few moments of work, you hear a voice — it’s your gun — speaking. It’s recounting the names of all the individuals, zombies or otherwise, whose lives it’s taken. As you listen, the weapon slowly twists about in your grip, out of its own agency, and the muzzle comes to rest against your forehead as it speaks the last name.\n\n\"u_name\"", + "Flaming fuel sprays before you in your dreams as you run through what appears to be a trench, an old flamethrower weighing heavy upon your back as various figures, zombies, shamble towards you. Burning like charring candles, the fiends stagger undeterred through the flame. Moments later, as you jolt awake, you can’t recall what came first: your flamer running out of gas or the burning corpses descending upon you with tooth and scorched bone.", + "As your eyes open, you find yourself gazing down at a miniature city around you, your head rising taller than even the biggest skyscraper. Clustered atop your palm, you spy a group of tiny soldiers huddling from a massive swarm of zombies that flood about your feet, gnawing bloody routs through your flesh. Before the pain grows too much to bear, you look down at the soldiers, only to find myriad copies of your own face staring back up at you in fear.", + "You have a dream about stumbling through a rundown facility, an old military base, with lights flashing red and alarms deafening. You’re trying to hide from something — a glowing red, humanoid outline that stalks the halls and fazes through fractal patterns in the walls. Your bullets do nothing against it. Your running never takes you far enough. Even hiding, eventually, doesn’t work.", +"In your dreams, you’re standing in line for a briefing supervised by your unit’s superior officer, but every time the CO opens their mouth, all you can hear is a rising, fog-horn-like shrieking that only gets louder. You try to cover your ears. You try leaving the room. The sound follows you. As you stumble into wakefulness, you know there was something else. You’d tried to silence the awful sound, but the recollection slips out of your grasp." ] }, { From 33807aff1e58573d1db65263798929ca9639511c Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DoctorBoomstick <102766473+DoctorBoomstick@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Thu, 2 May 2024 09:38:07 +0200 Subject: [PATCH 18/18] Refugee centre nightmares. --- data/json/snippets/nightmares.json | 40 ++++++++++++++++-------------- 1 file changed, 21 insertions(+), 19 deletions(-) diff --git a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json index 55674e3269efc..6b155c22b7268 100644 --- a/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json +++ b/data/json/snippets/nightmares.json @@ -87,18 +87,18 @@ "//": "Nightmare snippets for players with the Troubled Sleeper trait that recount dreams exclusively associated with characters that start as active soldiers.", "//2": "While these can and should stray into the realm of impossibility, for example, a player seeing their dream from the perspective of a zombie, they should be related to things the character might have seen, feared, or heard during the Cataclysm. E.g., having the player in the body of a zombie as they get gunned down by soldiers is fine, but having a dream about falling from an aeroplane into water infested by clowns isn't suitable for this category.", "text": [ - "You have a dream about playing with a set of toy soldiers until, suddenly, you find them slipping from your grasp and swarming about your feet. Peering nearer, you realise that they’re each a miniature member of your former unit — their screams reaching you as squads of them are splattered below. Wakefulness crashes upon you when you glance at yourself, only to find an oozing mass writhing before your eyes.", - "In your dreams, you find yourself sitting in a stationary, armoured vehicle, staring at an endless sea of zombies that crowd, gnaw, and smash upon the automobile. Every window’s obscured by legions of leering faces, with the military craft’s windscreen slowly spider-webbing under the crush of bodies and hands. The sound of shattering glass jolts you awake, moments after rotten hands and snapping jaws start stretching through the breached apertures.", - "In your dreams, you scramble through a landscape alive with the thunder of ordinance, the ground shaking as you drop into cover, only to come face-to-face with a fellow member of your unit. Before either of you can react, the soldier’s impaled by an enormous, otherworldly monster, spraying you with viscera. You startle awake, taking a few heartbeats to assure yourself that all you’re drenched in is your own sweat.", - "You have a dream in which you’re being reprimanded by your senior officer, who stands with their back to you, coldly chastising you for failing to save your comrades. Your feeble protestations fall on deaf ears. These protests crash to a halt as soon as the officer turns to face you. The thing occupying your officer’s skin wishes you a \"good morning\" and mildly suggests failing yourself as well, if you don’t want to see it again.", - "You open your eyes and find yourself within a barracks from one of your prior assignments, bustling with personnel from your former unit. You wander about, falling into conversation with the soldiers: some wistfully reminisce about the past, others poke fun over an aspect of your recent exploits — all of them recount how they died in the Cataclysm. When you awake, before the dream fades, you’re undecided whether you’re glad it was just a dream or devastated.", - "In your dreams, you’re sitting within a deserted, military mess hall, the Russell of aluminium foil and smell of food greeting your senses as you find yourself gazing upon an MRE package. The smell’s mouth-watering, and with a fork in hand, you go in for a bite. Suddenly, a black tentacle shoots out of the container and grasps the utensil, tugging it back into the package. This is soon followed by your entire body — you’re dragged into the fanged void that used to be the MRE.", - "You open your eyes, and your stomach lurches as you’re sent flailing through the pitching cabin of a helicopter, warning Clackson’s blaring as a roulette wheel of sky, clouds, and oily water windmills past the windows. Moments before the aircraft crashes into the lazily undulating sea, you see a giant, inky-black shadow darkening the water’s surface. A shriek of metal, an explosion of glass, and the cold sting of water rip you back to wakefulness.", - "Within the realms of sleep, you’re sitting in a room, cleaning your issued service weapon. After a few moments of work, you hear a voice — it’s your gun — speaking. It’s recounting the names of all the individuals, zombies or otherwise, whose lives it’s taken. As you listen, the weapon slowly twists about in your grip, out of its own agency, and the muzzle comes to rest against your forehead as it speaks the last name.\n\n\"u_name\"", - "Flaming fuel sprays before you in your dreams as you run through what appears to be a trench, an old flamethrower weighing heavy upon your back as various figures, zombies, shamble towards you. Burning like charring candles, the fiends stagger undeterred through the flame. Moments later, as you jolt awake, you can’t recall what came first: your flamer running out of gas or the burning corpses descending upon you with tooth and scorched bone.", + "You have a dream about playing with a set of toy soldiers until, suddenly, you find them slipping from your grasp and swarming about your feet. Peering nearer, you realise that they're each a miniature member of your former unit — their screams reaching you as squads of them are splattered below. Wakefulness crashes upon you when you glance at yourself, only to find an oozing mass writhing before your eyes.", + "In your dreams, you find yourself sitting in a stationary, armoured vehicle, staring at an endless sea of zombies that crowd, gnaw, and smash upon the automobile. Every window's obscured by legions of leering faces, with the military craft's windscreen slowly spider-webbing under the crush of bodies and hands. The sound of shattering glass jolts you awake, moments after rotten hands and snapping jaws start stretching through the breached apertures.", + "In your dreams, you scramble through a landscape alive with the thunder of ordinance, the ground shaking as you drop into cover, only to come face-to-face with a fellow member of your unit. Before either of you can react, the soldier's impaled by an enormous, otherworldly monster, spraying you with viscera. You startle awake, taking a few heartbeats to assure yourself that all you're drenched in is your own sweat.", + "You have a dream in which you're being reprimanded by your senior officer, who stands with their back to you, coldly chastising you for failing to save your comrades. Your feeble protestations fall on deaf ears. These protests crash to a halt as soon as the officer turns to face you. The thing occupying your officer's skin wishes you a \"good morning\" and mildly suggests failing yourself as well, if you don't want to see it again.", + "You open your eyes and find yourself within a barracks from one of your prior assignments, bustling with personnel from your former unit. You wander about, falling into conversation with the soldiers: some wistfully reminisce about the past, others poke fun over an aspect of your recent exploits — all of them recount how they died in the Cataclysm. When you awake, before the dream fades, you're undecided whether you're glad it was just a dream or devastated.", + "In your dreams, you're sitting within a deserted, military mess hall, the Russell of aluminium foil and smell of food greeting your senses as you find yourself gazing upon an MRE package. The smell's mouth-watering, and with a fork in hand, you go in for a bite. Suddenly, a black tentacle shoots out of the container and grasps the utensil, tugging it back into the package. This is soon followed by your entire body — you're dragged into the fanged void that used to be the MRE.", + "You open your eyes, and your stomach lurches as you're sent flailing through the pitching cabin of a helicopter, warning Clackson's blaring as a roulette wheel of sky, clouds, and oily water windmills past the windows. Moments before the aircraft crashes into the lazily undulating sea, you see a giant, inky-black shadow darkening the water's surface. A shriek of metal, an explosion of glass, and the cold sting of water rip you back to wakefulness.", + "Within the realms of sleep, you're sitting in a room, cleaning your issued service weapon. After a few moments of work, you hear a voice — it's your gun — speaking. It's recounting the names of all the individuals, zombies or otherwise, whose lives it's taken. As you listen, the weapon slowly twists about in your grip, out of its own agency, and the muzzle comes to rest against your forehead as it speaks the last name.\n\n\"u_name\"", + "Flaming fuel sprays before you in your dreams as you run through what appears to be a trench, an old flamethrower weighing heavy upon your back as various figures, zombies, shamble towards you. Burning like charring candles, the fiends stagger undeterred through the flame. Moments later, as you jolt awake, you can't recall what came first: your flamer running out of gas or the burning corpses descending upon you with tooth and scorched bone.", "As your eyes open, you find yourself gazing down at a miniature city around you, your head rising taller than even the biggest skyscraper. Clustered atop your palm, you spy a group of tiny soldiers huddling from a massive swarm of zombies that flood about your feet, gnawing bloody routs through your flesh. Before the pain grows too much to bear, you look down at the soldiers, only to find myriad copies of your own face staring back up at you in fear.", - "You have a dream about stumbling through a rundown facility, an old military base, with lights flashing red and alarms deafening. You’re trying to hide from something — a glowing red, humanoid outline that stalks the halls and fazes through fractal patterns in the walls. Your bullets do nothing against it. Your running never takes you far enough. Even hiding, eventually, doesn’t work.", -"In your dreams, you’re standing in line for a briefing supervised by your unit’s superior officer, but every time the CO opens their mouth, all you can hear is a rising, fog-horn-like shrieking that only gets louder. You try to cover your ears. You try leaving the room. The sound follows you. As you stumble into wakefulness, you know there was something else. You’d tried to silence the awful sound, but the recollection slips out of your grasp." + "You have a dream about stumbling through a rundown facility, an old military base, with lights flashing red and alarms deafening. You're trying to hide from something — a glowing red, humanoid outline that stalks the halls and fazes through fractal patterns in the walls. Your bullets do nothing against it. Your running never takes you far enough. Even hiding, eventually, doesn't work.", + "In your dreams, you're standing in line for a briefing supervised by your unit's superior officer, but every time the CO opens their mouth, all you can hear is a rising, fog-horn-like shrieking that only gets louder. You try to cover your ears. You try leaving the room. The sound follows you. As you stumble into wakefulness, you know there was something else. You'd tried to silence the awful sound, but the recollection slips out of your grasp." ] }, { @@ -107,14 +107,16 @@ "//": "Snippets for players with the Troubled Sleeper trait that trigger when the player character falls asleep within the boundaries of the refugee centre.", "//2": "While these can and should stray into the realm of impossibility, for example, a player seeing their dream from the perspective of a zombie, they should be related to things the character might have seen, feared, or heard during the Cataclysm. E.g., having the player in the body of a zombie as they get gunned down by soldiers is fine, but having a dream about falling from an aeroplane into water infested by clowns isn't suitable for this category.", "text": [ - { - "id": "nightmare_refugee1", - "text": "Lost within the hold of a dream, your eyes twitch below their lids.\n\nSpongey pavement squelches underfoot as a plume of spores puffs from bulbous sacks hanging on either side of the refugee centre's weathered doors, crumbling wood creaking as you push your way past the overgrown entrance. Shafts of watery daylight refract through the empty lobby, greenish grey fronds hanging in droves from the collapsed sections of the roof, carpets of furry Mould sprawling across the floor, and a canopy of fat stalks obscuring the trade windows to either side.\n\nCompelled forward by the cruel nature of dreams, you listlessly shuffle across the room and wander through the building's debauched hallways, mycelium-coated walls sweating white droplets greeting your gaze wherever you go. Periodically, person-sized sacks of spongey fibres bulge from walls, floors, and rooves, and, as you trace your hands along them, you find polished long bones and spinal columns extending along the wall, knitted amongst one another.\n\nEventually, as you trudge through calf-deep layers of mould, you grow conscious of the fact that your legs have gone numb. You glance down, and, for a moment, you think that you've accidentally blundered into a berried collection of bones that's obscuring your legs. The thick strands of dissolving meat clue you in to the fact that the stripped bones you're seeing are your own." - }, - { - "id": "nightmare_refugee2", - "text": "Sweat breaks out across your forehead as your brain churns within the grasp of a fresh nightmare.\n\nWithin your dream, you find yourself stiffly sitting upon a low, wooden bench, staring at a set of double doors in a room ruled by shadows — the refugee centre's front lobby. At the corners of your vision, you see the huddled profiles of what you assume to be the building's Begger and Guard contingent; all though, it's impossible to be certain: everything's shrouded in darkness, and you can't move your head. You can't control any aspect of your form, in fact.\n\nYou take in the winding detail of the doors' wood grain, and you cannot avert your eyes. You feel splinters digging through your legwear, and you cannot shift your legs. You sit there for what feels like hours and watch as a spider skitters across your face; you still cannot move. The arachnid hangs before your right eye, spinning a web. You stop watching when the spider's finished its work and reaches its legs towards your pupal for a meal; you cannot scream even as you feel it depositing eggs.\n\nEntire days roll by in your dreams, and still nothing moves within that room save from the waterfall of baby spiders flowing through your head. Suddenly, the spell's broken as a ray of daylight blinds your remaining eye: the doors before you creeking open and the muzzle of a cradled, snub-nosed revolver peeps through. It's soon followed by a heavily bearded face squinting into the space, the survivor's expression settling into a cadence of disgust.\n\nYou rise from your seat. The other dead shuffle from their own positions. Spiders flow forth from your jaws as you let out a groan, shambling towards the man. The revolver's muzzle speaks." - } + "In your dreams, you wander the refugee centre's halls, alone. The building looks as though the weight of years has born down upon it, the structure's dilapidated, and everywhere is overgrown by a greenish grey coating of mycelium. By the dream's end, you can't count how many human-long bones you've found woven into the mildew-carpeted walls.", + "Your eyes fly open as the sounds of battle crash across your ears — screams, gunfire — the centre's under attack, though by who or what, you don't know. Racing through the corridors, all you find are wound-riddled bodies, gouts of blood flowing like rivers, and bullet holes chewing through the walls. You round a bend, and suddenly:\n\n\"BLAM\"\n\nYou startle awake, your hands flying to your face. It takes you moments to assure yourself that your skull's free of an extra hole.", + "In your sleep, you scrabble through the refugee centre, a harsh buzzing in your ears. Where every human is supposed to be, a giant, vaguely anthropoid insect looms, clacking at you with pincers and oozing mandibles. You stagger into the lobby, only to find a man-sized, writhing wasp occupying Smokes' nook and piles of eggs deposited on the benches. Moments before you jolt awake, the wasp bursts through the window.\n\n\"We could do with some food,\" it chitters.", + "You have a dream about covertly creeping through the evacuation centre, the floors littered with the refugees' sprawled bodies and shadows etching doorways in black. Echoing through the building, you can hear something's heavy, metallic footfalls: prowling, searching, hunting you. You awake in a cold sweat moments after rounding a bend and finding a set of opalescent, camera-like eyes meeting your own from a very, very great height.", + "In your dreams, you walk down the refugee centre's basement stairs, the knowledge that you've been granted a permanent, safe bunk lightening both heart and step. This relief, however, is short-lived: dispelled as you hear the access stair's door thump shut behind you. This, however, isn't nearly as worrying as the myriad, maddened snarls that echo from the darkness below.", + "You open your eyes and find yourself within one of the refugee centre's backrooms — to your surprise, there's a wedding in swing. Pushing through the crowd, you attempt to gain a look at the newlyweds. You startle awake as soon as you find two decaying, demonically twisted countenances staring back at you, their mutated tongues fused together and teeth gnashing at one another's bloody skulls.", + "In your dreams, you sit in the centre's front lobby: destitute, hungry, a begger. Days of monotony wined past, the stench of filth claws at your nostrils, the scraps your allotted do nothing to sate your hunger — everyday you're mocked like an animal in a zoo as you plead for food and watch those about you grow fat on plenty.", + "You have a dream about franticly digging long trench lines before the refugee centre, elbow to elbow with the building's denizens, as increasing waves of the dead funnel down the access road. The zombies crash upon your makeshift battlements as though it's the First World War, and bayonets, bullets, and your own shovel do little to stop the onslaught.", + "Black, gel-like fluid comes up to your waste as you stumble down the refugee's basement stairs and splash into the underground level, amorphous shapes bobbing in the liquid around you. Wandering aimlessly through the space, you wade through the chest-high sludge and approach the bundles, only to find that they're all drowned corpses. At the dream's end, you're surrounded by a wall of bodies floating at eye level, and you realise… the waterline's been rising. It doesn't stop.", + "You have a dream about being a loaf of stale, plastic-wrapped bread sitting in languid purgatory within a dark cupboard. Instinctively, you know that the food's run out within the refugee centre, and, as you hear footfalls rapidly approaching, you brace yourself. You regret the fact that you have no mouth with which to screen as the door is yanked open and multiple sets of filthy, withered hands descend on you." ] }, {