Deer Country Network

[ The feed opens to Ozpin's library in the rebuilt Clockhouse: gone is the overgrowth of red and blue flowers, and instead the room is a clutter of green and purple furniture, overwrought gold filigree, and a few cleverly hidden carvings of butts. He has clearly tried to position the camera away from most of the chaos, so it centers Ozpin at his desk with a stack of fairytale books. He still looks pale and gaunt with simmering Corruption; there is a glint of vampire's fangs in his polite smile. ]

Good evening, Sleepers. For those who do not know me, my name is Professor Ozpin. I teach those who would stand against monsters, and in payment I often ask for the stories they've brought from their worlds... fairy tales of heroes, villains, and fools. I find there is always a grain of truth in every fable, and certainly wisdom to be gained from the sharing of it.

I am one of those who was present in the dream called Deerington. I find that our numbers feel lower, as of late... and I fear that someday, the stories of that dream shall be lost.

A few among us may recall the August of two years ago, a festival of peace and music. We honored the death of Cynthia Sodder, now reborn as the Moon Presence, with stories for her spirit and flowers for her grave. [ He takes on a wry, more distant smile. ] To lay flowers on a grave is an old tradition indeed. But I think it's the stories that are of more use - for the one telling them, not only the one told.

Cynthia was a being caged by the stories told about her. Her daughter, Julia Sodder, suffered the same fate. Many Sleepers remember her as a child... but in this era, the people of Deer Country only seem to remember her by the nightmares she brought to life.

A very wise young man [ his smile softens ] once helped me see past that view. I thought, perhaps, in this month of quiet and reflection, we might share more hopeful stories with the girl now lost. Her spirit still dwells in Sleepy Town, and so - myself, Oscar Pine, and Paul Atreides - now propose a new festival, in the spirit of the season. We shall gather at those grand wooden gates to tell hopeful tales of heroes, of community, and of mistakes that did not mean the end.

You see... the end we chose for her was a mistake. I should like to undertake some act, however small, to ease her eternal pain.

[ that got weirdly dire, thanks Ozpin ]

You may find us at the gates of Sleepy Town for the remainder of the month, telling what stories we think a lost girl may choose to believe in. I hope to see you there.

[[ If your character would like to share a story for Julia (or another NPC), see here for player plot info! ]]

[She’s been here for over a week now. Time to get the lay of the land. The video opens up to a particularly tall blonde woman with a golden skeletal arm and a smirk. She's here to cause problems on purpose.]

Greetings, hello, salutations. My name is Ianthe Naberius. I’m new in town, twenty two, a princess of Ida, unfortunately single and dreadfully bored!

Now, I come to you today, not only to introduce myself, but to ask something of all of you.

Who do you hate most in Trench and why? I’m trying to meet people, network, but it’s so hard and overwhelmingly positive! So consider this an open invitation. Warn me about that dangerous scoundrel who kicked your puppy, seethe about how much you despise me for whatever reason, tell me about your parasocial hateful fixation on one of the local divinity. It can be a minor slight you want to complain about, a friend of yours who owes you two perfectly intact human skulls, or it can be an actual danger to this lovely little community of ours.

Now, before you try to say “this is childish and stupid!” You’re absolutely right, but it is a necessary part of self care to allow oneself to be an absolute cunt once in a while. [Or all the time, if your name is Ianthe.] So let’s not make any grand claims to being above something like this, mm?

Feel free to use the anonymity feature. Or the privacy feature, I guess, if you’re shy or worried about being fileted like a fish.

[ Right, here goes. Nico is making this video from the Sanctuary kitchen, so forgive the noise of someone working behind him. ]

I'm sure you've all seen the calls for people helping to shovel snow or offering a room at the Sanctuary on the network this month. While I fully support both of those things, I'm here to offer something else to anyone who finds themselves in an emergency situation between the snow, the monsters, and weird impromptu lake trips out there.

It's called shadow travel.

[ That is kind of exactly what it sounds like. ]

I can take people two at a time from a dangerous situation and drop them off somewhere safe. This is a pretty draining power, so unless someone else has teleportation-like abilities they want to offer up, I will absolutely only be running life-saving free services.

For reference, shadow travel is like being on a roller coaster, in the dark, and cold. It isn't a long trip, since Trench is a relatively small place, but it can be pretty terrifying if you don't like any of those things.

[ Okay, that's about it. ]

If you find yourself in an emergency situation and need an escape, just give me, Nico, a call over the Omnis.

[The device that lets him communicate with people over long distances is interesting, but Trevor's seen magic achieve something similar before.

No, what holds his attention is the several different vessels of water available in houses. He's standing in a bathroom where the shower, sink and bath all have the water running.]

...I feel like an idiot talking to myself, but if this really works.

[He looks directly at the camera and then attempts to straighten it out (it isn't) before he clears his throat.]

So citizens of this fine shithole, what do we need this much running water inside for?

The well I get-- [He points at the toilet.] But this all seems a bit much.

Alright, bitches. It's apparently been a hella long time since I've graced anyone in this timeline with my presence. I tried the whole reaching out one by one thing so as not to shock the system, but that shit got time consuming and my attention span is only so strong.

So, if you remember me, tell me, and maybe fill me in on important life developments. Or like. Just leave me a meme that sums up this shit hole the best.

...

Actually, everyone should leave me one of those. Chop, chop, get to it. Whenever Santa's elves aren't busy trying to eat your fucking face off or whatever.

[ She goes to shut off the feed but flicks it on literally two seconds later. ]

Is there weed in this place, by the way? Asking for a friend.

[Vira-Lorr was not doing well. On the surface, it wasn't going to be obvious. The omni showed her on the shoreline of Trench, bundled up and watching out to the iceflows of the winter. There were, in the background, greeters tending to the last steps of the arrivals. The beasts from the ocean weren't breaking out of the ice right now, and it was past the usual time for sleepers to wash up, so the winter festivities were being closed up. Everything was safe. She just looked like she was finishing up a vigil. Anyone who knew her knew that she did this every month. She was usually waiting for a few people in particular. She just ... didn't publicize it like this.

Her eyes were rimmed red. It was clear that she'd been crying, but she wasn't doing it currently. Instead, she was smiling, though it was a distant and pained thing. One hand reached up to rest on her shoulder, to feel where the mark had been placed.]

I... don't need to tell some of you this. You will know. You always do. This is for other people in town who might care.

[Usagi would know. She didn't name Serenity, but she knew that she would know that a Senshi had departed, and if she knew then Makoto and Hotaru would know very quickly afterwards. Either by connection, or being told. This message wasn't specifically to tell them that Venus had gone home, though she would appreciate hearing from her friends. It was for the ones who weren't connected like they had been, like she had been.]

My wife, Minako Aino, is fine. She has safely returned to the sea. I felt the distance as it progressed, and ... I know that nothing caught her amongst the monsters below. She's safe. She will be safe in her home. I ... I want all of you who care about her to be certain of that.

[Her lips quivered a little and she sighed. She'd dealt with this before. How many people had she lost since the nightmares? How many had she tried to love? To get close to? Only to lose them too. She'd lost Minako twice now this way. She could handle it. Yet, this time was different. In so many ways it was different because deep down, she knew there was a chance Minako did not remember her where she was going. Usagi, Makoto, Hotaru, they would be reunited one day, but they might all forget her. It hurt.]

I'm fin... no, I'm not. I'm not going to lie. I'm not fine. My wife is gone, and I will come back every month to see if she returns to me, to us. I'm a patient woman. People have come back to me before. I have centuries to wait. My race gives me that luxury. but today hurts. A lot.

[There was a momentary pause and she sighed.]

I could probably use some company over the next few days. I'll be running the shop to help get my mind off of it, so if you need a reading, I just won't be a hundred percent is all. I've been very moody lately. Not sure why, but this is not helping.

( click this )

( a picture is worth a thousand words.)

i: VIDEO PRIVATE to eden

[There's a saga before this that isn't broadcasted to the network at large, but only to Eden via drone: Mike's abduction on the way into Crenshaw, his bout of unconsciousness - the horror of waking, mouth stitched shut, in not quite unfamliar, bloody, hostile territory, clad only in a dull, red jumpsuit - the further horror of realizing he's chained to what amounts to nothing more than the headless upper half of what had once been a Sleeper. It's possible she's seen who and what their fate was. It's also possible she hasn't.

It's the standoff in the Sleeper Farm - floor after floor of dragging the remains of another Sleeper with him, up and up - even when his blood is functional enough he could be rid of the gory baggage he doesn't shed it - that would, in effect, be leaving a man behind, and what kind of thing is that to do? By the end of it, it's become a grudge. And by the time he's in front of that statue, all manner of organs in its hands, he gently unshackles his companion, and then himself, before stomping on the chains until they're no longer chains, but a mess of old wires that disintegrate into nothing but stains on the floor.

His endless rageful shouting - the stitches are long gone, left an aftertaste of ash that's as unwelcome as the rest of this, maybe even moreso.]

Del, to everyone!

ii: VIDEO PUBLIC: omen: username: TENSKULLS/MIKE ENSLIN

[His Omen is not instructed to contain the broadcast to the small circle Mike intends to ask, so she opens the line of communication to all of Trench instead. Mike may have meant "everyone" in the "Sword Wizards and Mike" way, but Delmira obeys in the literal sense.

Mike's blood and its monthly bonus of excitability is doing the Zealots no favors once he's up here. They're glitching as fast as they're moving, somehow they're not close enough to attack, they're never accurate enough, and then they're behind a bubble that's rendered them a slow motion haze, confused and barely audible through it, while he sits on a summoned chair, a growing pile of shirts at his feet that shows no signs of slowing. Every shirt is wrong. Wrong pattern, wrong color, wrong cut. That's a fucking video tape and:]

That is the wrong fucking thread count!! GOD DAMNIT!!!

[He is now screaming (nearly unintelligibly) I want!! MY SHIRT!! with the exact same vibe he'd once screamed as he attacked a mini fridge. If counted, it takes four hundred and ninety nine shirts to get the correct shirt back. And not that he's paying any mind at all to the Zealots besides hurling words:]

You circus freaks are either going to help me find it or you can fuck right off!!! I'm DONE!

[Wrong shirt.]

Why don't you close your eyes, imagine yourself being actually fucking scary, and then open them and weep, you ASSCLOWN!!!

[Two wrong shirts, but closer to anyone who knows the shirt.]

That was my lucky shirt! I was on my way to WORK, you fermented ball sack! My friends gave me that!! Like you know what friends are with that face! Clive Barker called, he wants his whole thing back!

I'm gonna kick you in the dick so hard your vertebrae pop out like a goddamn Pez Dispenser!!

[Not a shirt, but that's a rain of vertebrae shooting across the backdrop if one chooses to look. Mike doesn't - he's too busy yelling.

Shirts flicker out of existence as new ones appear in his hands, and when that last one comes, he goes quiet as he examines it, the flurry and whirl of bloodmad monstrosities outside his shield growing hazier still. He looks up at the statue with a cold calm, his hands clenching and then releasing the fabric, somehow angrier now that he's bunched it up. So he holds it gently now as the wall he'd conjured flickers, fades, and reveals a floor emptied of Zealots - just that statue and its organ offerings. Its blood.

Before he's able to make any further move, there's a pale, pulsing glow that replaces the fading bubble, a pearlescent shimmer as Moon Presence ends this scene just shy of sacrifice, and he's suddenly in his small, messy room at the Sanguine Station, (standing in front of a whole wall of photographs - daughter, wife, brother, various combinations - in most of which his own face is blurry) - holding a bloodied hawaiian shirt - the very same he'd donned for his first day at his new job - which he has now missed.

He looks down at his omen, the screen, blinking. Delmira blinks back, and shuts her eyes, so it's only Mike's voice that asks, after a pause:]

iii: VOICE PUBLIC: omen: username: TENSKULLS/MIKE ENSLIN

How the fuck do I get blood out of a good shirt?

[The video turns on and it's Maul, using his omen Venge to broadcast it. He looks serious like he's about to talk to Trench about a topic of great importance.]

For those unaware, this is the time of year when the Pthumerian or half-Pthumerian known as Santa Claus comes to Trench towards the end of the month. He can shift into many forms to fit into your home but most often looks like this.

[Venge, his Omen, turns to look at the picture that has been sketched of a fairly traditional 21st century Santa Maul has set up next to him. Yes, this presentation comes with pictures, all made by Maul himself]

Santa is one of the more benevolent Pthumerians though he is possessed of much stealth and cunning, making it difficult for people to interact with him. He is associated with deer as Sodder was but his chosen favored deer are reindeer. He uses his powers to make them fly.

[Another picture, this time showing the team of flying reindeer that looks like it was copied from an illustration of 'Twas The Night Before Christmas. This one is a little rougher, especially the reindeer, for drawing animals isn't Maul's forte.]

He loves the scent of pine and prefers if there are wreaths or full trees made of them left in the home when he visits. Those who leave him offerings of food and drink he will reward with presents. The offerings can be small such as this.

[Again, another picture showing a glass of milk and plate of cookies are shown with an equal sign followed by a small stack of presents underneath a Christmas tree that has been decorated rather....oddly with things like animal skulls and black ornaments on it.]

But he also accepts larger offerings if you wish for larger gifts. There appears to be no known way to prevent him from entering your homes but he doesn't appear to seem interested in causing harm to people, even those who fail to provide him hospitality. I have yet to run into him personally the past two years, but if anyone sees him, please let me know. I wish to test my fighting skills against him.

[.............Yes, Darth Maul just said he wants to fight Santa Claus. Will wonders never cease?]

[The feed opens up to Johnny Lawrence staring at the screen like he isn't aware that it's currently life. He's looking incredible thoughtful as his fingers type down a message. It's... very uncharacteristically thoughtful of him. It would almost be hard to peg him as the same person if not for the occasional pause to take a swig of beer.

After a moment he stops. His eyes scan over the screen again as he carefully reads back what he's written. Then there's a little flick of annoyance that shifts to frustration.]

No this is stupid.

[He whacks the screen before standing up putting and shoving it aside lightly.]

You don't apologize. That shows weakness-

And there's no wea-

[The feed shuts off.]

[And a moment later another message comes through via text.]

Dear Robby,

I just wanted to apologize for what happened at Miyagi-Do the other day. I didn't want things to break into a fight, especially not like the one that did. I wanted to come and support you and what you had chosen to do. But I thought if I showed up in any sort of Eagle Fang gear it would be taken as a challenge. It turns out it did anyways as well an insult to your training ground.

All I can say is I'm sorry. You have every right to be mad at me.

If you can find it in your heart, don't blame Paul for this. He's a good kid who just got roped into the mess I made.

Johnny.

-

Dear Daniel LaRusso,

I'm sorry for the scene I caused at your dojo. I didn't mean any disrespect to Miyagi-Do and, I wasn't looking to reopen any can of worms between us.

I've been trying my best to support Robby and respect his wishes to give him space since he got here. And even though he told me that he'd be helping you reopen your dojo. It still hurt that he chose to stick by you instead of give me a chance to prove that I can be there for him.

It's why I showed up to the dojo in the fucking plumbers get up. I panicked and thought if I showed up doing anything karate related it'd be seen as disrespecting your dojo or a direct challenge to what you were doing.

Turns out it was both either way. Go fucking figure I'd screw it up that bad.

I'll do my best to keep my distance from your dojo. But don't blame Paul for this. He's a good kid and he just got pulled into my bullshit.

Johnny.

-

Dear Paul,

I'm sorry for dragging you into that mess. My relationship with Robby and LaRusso is a shit show on the best of days. And instead of owning up to that like a sensei should, I threw you into the middle of it. I put you in a position where you had to face the consequences of every bad decision I've made in my life. You didn't deserve that.

I keep telling you that I'm not going to fail you again. And then I go and do it all over again.

The way you stood up after all of that and apologized for what had happened. I just

I wish I could be half the man you were in that moment.

Don't blame LaRusso or Robby for what happened there. They were just trying to get at my while I hid behind you.

You're the real badass here.

Johnny

[The feed opens on a pretty tired and lightly corrupted looking Lance (his default state, honestly). He runs a hand through his hair and then puts on a crooked smile. Lights, camera, action! This is a good announcement.]

Sooo, my buddy Keith's birthday was last Sunday and I figured why not surprise him with a party? I mean, after the whole bloody dragon transformation and the sex jokes, I think he's earned it.

[He shoots the camera a grin and a pair of finger guns and then he lets out a slightly awkward laugh that he interrupts with a cough into his fist. Yes, he's aware that was kind of a lot but like hell he's gonna outright admit it. Moving on...]

It's not gonna be fancy but it is gonna double as a halloween party cause if we do it right, it'll be thumping into the early morning hours [he winks], so come in costume if you wanna. Or just come get some cake, hang out, play darts, dance and drink, all that stuff. It'll be at The Red starting around eight. [A pause as he then considers one last thing.]

Oh, and if you wanna get him something last minute and need some tips just hit up me or Shiro. [And with that, he gives a two finger salute with a sparkling, crooked grin and ends the feed.]

( log option )

[The video opens up on Adaine, stood in front of a board with a map on it. The map is of Trench, but it's old and worn and brown. Still, she has helpfully marked the part of interest with a red X, over a temple in the Trenchwood.]

I think it's been a rough couple of months for us. We've had local assholes stabbing the ocean, we've had the ocean being really mad about that and blaming all of Trench for it because she's kind of an asshole too, there were a lot of murders, houses burned down, uh, been tossed into alternate universes where everything sucks - [She's maybe regretting her choices to bring that all up.] Anyway. One positive thing is that we've established a lot of good things in the last six months or so too. The Sanctuary, the Outpost, now the Academy.

I - and a few others - have a similar venture in mind. An archive where we can research and compile information about Trench, so that even if people disappear into the ocean it's not, you know, lost forever. To start with however...

[She points at the map, tapping on the location in question and bringing the Omni closer.]

A while ago - back in April - there was an expedition into a temple called 'The Temple of the Forgotten Mother'. We didn't get far, barely cleared out the entrance before we had to leave. But I've done a bit of research and there's a giant labyrinth of dungeons beneath it, and beyond that, it was the domain of a cult older than Trench as we know it that worshipped Mother Superior. [And, because she's a dramatic bitch, she smirks for emphasis.] Which brings me to the point.

We're going to put the archives - our archives - The Sleeper's Archives, right on the top level of her system of dungeons. [Objectively an insane idea BUT, consider... it would also be cool as hell.]

So basically, all I need is people who are interested in helping with research, clearing the top level of monsters and traps and treasures and warding away any influence from the lower levels. We'll be going deeper, but it'll take some time, so for now I'm only asking for help with the top level. We need excavators, people who are good at bringing others back from corruption, fighters, architects, investigators, seers, healers... If you think you can help, just let me know and we'll figure something out.

I have a request.

Well, a lot of requests. Tiny requests, for lots of people. Not necessarily just tiny people, though — tiny, tall, whatever. That is to say...any people can help. If you're a people? And you're a help? I would greatly appreciate that.

[From off screen, a voice that sounds like Tuck can be heard stage-whispering: "Tell them WHY..." ]

—Oh, right.

[Vyng clears his throat and puts on a pair of tiny-rimmed glasses to make himself at least a little dignified, and he continues.]



. . . You see, Sleepers. There is an artifact of...uh, great personal importance to myself. A relic, if you will, that bears the name of my Druidic family.

But a local has taken stewardship over this relic o' mine. They have offered to relinquish this relic into my custody — but! For a price. Namely, this list of assorted items that I'm attaching at the end of my message.

[With a quiet "this one, right here", he literally places a piece of paper over the camera. "Too close?" Vyng pulls the paper back. He holds it there for awhile. If anybody looks, they can make out the following list:]

( DONATIONS NEEDED, PLEASE & THANK YOU )

[From behind the paper, Vyng asks:]

How long do I have to keep holding this?

[. . . ]

Is this good? I think it's good.

[Eventually, though, a digital copy is included at the tail of this message, with a tiny handwritten note at the bottom:]

⅁N⅄Λ - oxox ¡¡ǝɔuɐʌpɐ uı ⅄⊥
ＴＹ 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝒹𝓋𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 ♥
x0xo - 𝓥𝔂𝓷𝓰

[ The feed opens to show two men in the Archives. Martin is tall, and stout, with a friendly if not slightly nervous expression as though he might be a little camera shy. Beside him, Jon Sims looks like an underfed wraith of a man: he's gaunt and exhausted, but at least he holds himself at ease for the first time in months. Those who spend time in the Archives have likely seen him in passing, and it's a shock to see him smiling.

He clears his throat and leans forward to address the camera. The feed speckles into static with the movement, distorting briefly around his eyes. ]

Hello. My name is Jonathan Sims, and I am joined by Martin Blackwood.

Hello! [ Martin lifts a hand to give a small wave to the camera. ]

We were both residents of Deerington, though our memories of the experience are... incomplete.

So we're asking people to come forward with their memories - either Deerington, or Trench, or even at home. Anything weird or supernatural that might help us get a better understanding of what’s happening here - or what might happen, I guess. And how to deal with it? There's a lot to be learned from our own experiences. And - and sometimes it just helps to talk about it?

[ This all sounds well and good, but Jon looks uneasy, frowning down at the sheaf of papers in his hands. He clears his throat and continues, more steadily: ]

Additionally, I have a warning to issue. There have been instances of... unusual books and artifacts being found throughout Trench.

They will probably have a weird effect on you, or the people around you, if you read them, or mess with them or anything. You might even know as soon as you see one that there’s something kind of... off about them?

If you encounter anything which strikes you as [ there's a twist of exasperation at this gross oversimplification: ] cursed, please alert myself or Martin immediately.

We've seen these kinds of things at home before, so we have loads of experience dealing with them. We can help. Just let us know and we'll be right there.

[ Jon looks directly at the camera again, and for a moment visual distortion swallows the feed: there is a shivering bloom of static and an uncanny intensity to his eyes, as though he is truly seeing you, the viewer, from the other side of town. You can make out Martin's nervous smile, and then it clicks off. ]

(( Permissions and info if you'd like to provide a spooky memory! Statements given via the network will not invoke the consequences described. It's safe... for now. ))

( Cut, ya know, to get ahead of things. )

( major spoilers for Nona the Ninth )

For those who have been or were interested in attending Ninjutsu and Taijutsu training, I am resuming classes now that my mind has returned to normal. For anyone who interacted with me last month, I apologize for my ... rough behaviors. I assure you I am still teaching, no matter what I said previously.

[ There's a pause where he might leave it at that, but he sighs and decides to make two more announcements. ]

Also, I should have said this back in July, but things were... complicated. Haruno Sakura is now Uchiha Sakura. Please be sure to remember this when addressing her by her family name.

Lastly: ... Is there... any place around here with even slightly decent ramen?

[ It's that idiot's birthday and this is the only way to honor him, clearly. ]

I had a thankfully dull moment earlier today passing ways with a fictional ghost—the Headless Horseman. Nothing else happened. However, I am not accustomed to seeing fictional characters, even ghosts, walking around Trench.

1. How normal is this experience?


2. Have you seen any other ghosts—fictional? From home?


3. If you have an experience as the month goes on, I would appreciate knowing.

The Entertainment Feed is going to screen two movies related to The Headless Horseman tonight. It is thematic to the month and solid entertainment. It may also serve as education and preparation should you be unable to avoid a violent altercation.

The plan will be to do the same for any such ghosts people see that are in available media.

[sansa, in front of her direwolf sigil tapestry as usual, has her face painted like a raven for the black parade's ongoing festivities, black feathers around her eyes and painted on her cheeks. someone has also given her black lipstick. it doesn't seem to be causing any ill effects. she has black feathers braided into her hair and sewn on to her dress, which is charcoal linen embroidered with glossy black ravens. lady sits with her in a matching collar of black feathers and gemstone chips. she looks somewhat nervous.]

Hallo, this is Sansa Stark. I wanted to say that the people in the strange wasp's nests are only the Zealots that were attacking and kidnapping Sleepers last year, and no one should risk themselves to save them. The Zealots can be recognized by their scars; some of their skin looks half-flayed open. If anybody knows anything else about the Zealots, it would be well if they could share it.

[sansa straightens and draws a breath. she flicks at her omni.]

[locked from user names leavegodalone, 1ststrike, and dabi. that is, in fact, it. she thinks that probably john gaius will be able to see this anyway but doesn't know what else she can do.]

Anyway, as near as I can tell it's my nameday on the seventeenth of this month, and as I've been unable to celebrate my past three namedays I thought I might well have a small feast at the Sanctuary to mark the occasion. Since that day is a Monday I thought perhaps it might be easier for everyone to have it on the Saturday before, which is the fifteenth. We'll be in the larger dining hall. I should be very glad if any of you choose to attend.

[In the background, one can see a brand new amusement park. It’s equipped with some standard rides - a ferris wheel, two roller coasters, a scrambler, bumper cars, a merry-go-round, and a tilt-a-whirl.

The games are all standard faire, although the prizes are all varying degrees of odd - some are plush squids, and other plush toys appear to be either inebriated, or are mildly disturbing. The park also features a few other attractions - an enormous bouncy castle obstacle course can be seen, and there are a few other buildings.

In the center of the camera is Tory, but there's a young man in that can be seen in side profile, looking out at the misplaced amusement park. ]

Hi Trench! Look what we made. Pretty cool, huh? Robby, do you have any ideas on what we should name it? Or should we take suggestions?

[The camera swings onto the guy with her, who looks at her and at the camera of the omni, a baffled expression matched by an incredulous laugh. Brows high up, he waves a hand.]

She said we made it, but that's all her. And I'm still stuck on a park appearing out of nowhere to be thinkin' names.

[But it's the sort of stuck where a laugh is in his words. Like wow, this sure did and is happening, huh.

The camera focuses back onto Tory, and she wraps up the short PSA.]

Anyone who doesn’t suck is welcome to come and enjoy it. It’s just outside of Crenshaw. If you have any ideas for a good name for it, reply here.