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SUGAR & SAY THAT YOU WILL β JUNE 2026 EVENT/TDM
TDM & EVENT: SUGAR & SAY THAT YOU WILL
α
Prologue: The Pull
Sleep's wave comes unevenly after the heat of the last few weeks stack upon each other, weighed down by something that lingers even after consciousness fades for Veteran Vessels. A newer Vessel's dreams begin in familiar places before the edges darken and lose definition. A tide rolls in slowly, black and glossy, thick like oil spreading across water. Its scent arrives first, unmistakably sweet and heavy, clinging to the senses and pulling you down.
The tide slips through the dream space, seeping beneath doors, climbing walls, pooling around ankles and wrists, remaining close enough to be felt without forcing itself forward. The sensation draws attention rather than fear, offering warmth rather than the pressure of scary resistance.
For younger vessels, or those uninterested in seduction, the darkness softens as it rises. The feeling becomes comforting, like being wrapped in a blanket, accompanied by the sense that something beautiful waits ahead. The promise is simple: a place where indulgence is allowed, where desire is not something to be denied. For older vessels, the closeness carries intimacy: The tide glides along skin with deliberate intent, lingering at throats, hips, and mouths, its presence suggestive without revealing a form. Breath seems to brush against them, and the promise offered is indulgence without apology, to be wanted and consumed without consequence.
The tide does not claim them unless they allow it. Consent comes quietly, through a thought, a movement toward it, the choice not to pull away. When that choice is made, the water surges upward, swallowing the dream and pulling them beneath its surface.
You all will awaken within a Garden.
The tide slips through the dream space, seeping beneath doors, climbing walls, pooling around ankles and wrists, remaining close enough to be felt without forcing itself forward. The sensation draws attention rather than fear, offering warmth rather than the pressure of scary resistance.
For younger vessels, or those uninterested in seduction, the darkness softens as it rises. The feeling becomes comforting, like being wrapped in a blanket, accompanied by the sense that something beautiful waits ahead. The promise is simple: a place where indulgence is allowed, where desire is not something to be denied. For older vessels, the closeness carries intimacy: The tide glides along skin with deliberate intent, lingering at throats, hips, and mouths, its presence suggestive without revealing a form. Breath seems to brush against them, and the promise offered is indulgence without apology, to be wanted and consumed without consequence.
The tide does not claim them unless they allow it. Consent comes quietly, through a thought, a movement toward it, the choice not to pull away. When that choice is made, the water surges upward, swallowing the dream and pulling them beneath its surface.
You all will awaken within a Garden.
α
Play A Twisted Little Game
( content warnings: substance use, intoxication themes, addiction/temptation, manipulation and coercive influence, loss of inhibition, altered mental state, psychological horror, compulsive behavior, predatory/hunting instincts, animalistic aggression. )
The Garden stretches outward in impossible directions, lush to the point of excess, resembling a marvelously distorted fairy tale. Enormous flowers crowd the paths, their petals thick and glossy, colors saturated beyond reason. Trees twist into arches and spirals, their branches heavy with glowing fruit that hangs low enough to brush against shoulders. Massive mushrooms dot the landscape, their luminous caps casting soft light across the ground like candles and leading the way. Even where you step, flourescense lights your path.
Golden pollen drifts constantly through the air, clinging to skin and hair. Breathing it in brings a spreading warmth that softens one's restraint and dulls hesitation without fully erasing it. Laughter comes more easily, thoughts slow, and the urge to linger strengthens with every sweet breath you take.
The fruit is irresistible, for the record. It looks perfect, tastes even better, and leaves behind a pleasant haze that encourages indulgence. Those who partake may find themselves giving in to impulses they normally deny, choosing comfort over caution, distraction over vigilance, and pleasure over restraint. None of it feels dangerous, is how it entices you. How can it, when it feels this good?
Beyond fruit and flora, the Garden reshapes itself to suit each Vessel's wants and needs. It conjures whatever they love most, presenting it without shame or judgment. A clearing may reveal an entire pyramid of chilled pudding, each cup untouched and gleaming with sugar. A flower may open to offer fragrant tobacco and a lighter placed carefully within its petals. Sheltered spaces may contain alcohol, sweets, games, toys, music, drugs, books, instruments— anything capable of drawing the vessel deeper into indulgence.
The objects are real. They feel real, food tastes real, and they all satisfy, too.
The Garden responds eagerly to its use ever time. Paths widen, flowers bloom brighter, and the air grows warmer as indulgence continues among vessels. At the same time, subtle shifts begin to take hold. The pollen thickens, the sweetness becomes heavier, and vines creep closer to well-traveled spaces, brushing against ankles and legs as though testing their very boundaries. The more vessels indulge, the more the Garden thrives, and the harder it becomes to imagine leaving when everything they desire is right within reach.
Under a pink moon that hangs low above the canopy, the forest responds differently to Beastkin Tokens and Lycan Offerings. Scents sharpen and layer richly in the air. The hum of life beneath the soil grows louder, vibrating through bone and animal instinct. The floating pollen enhances instinct rather than dulling it. Hunger, territoriality, the urge to roam or chase press closer to the surface. The Garden may conjure open stretches of moonlit forest for running, fleeting silhouettes that invite pursuit, or rival presences that vanish just ahead of your grasp. Indulgence here may take the form of movement, dominance, or surrender to instinct beneath that glowing sky. The more these instincts are indulged, the more the forest reshapes itself to accommodate them, you, clearing paths forward, closing them behind, and making your hunts all the more exhilirating.
Token Effects
Offering Effects
Beastkin Tokens & Lycan Offerings Specific Effects
Golden pollen drifts constantly through the air, clinging to skin and hair. Breathing it in brings a spreading warmth that softens one's restraint and dulls hesitation without fully erasing it. Laughter comes more easily, thoughts slow, and the urge to linger strengthens with every sweet breath you take.
The fruit is irresistible, for the record. It looks perfect, tastes even better, and leaves behind a pleasant haze that encourages indulgence. Those who partake may find themselves giving in to impulses they normally deny, choosing comfort over caution, distraction over vigilance, and pleasure over restraint. None of it feels dangerous, is how it entices you. How can it, when it feels this good?
Beyond fruit and flora, the Garden reshapes itself to suit each Vessel's wants and needs. It conjures whatever they love most, presenting it without shame or judgment. A clearing may reveal an entire pyramid of chilled pudding, each cup untouched and gleaming with sugar. A flower may open to offer fragrant tobacco and a lighter placed carefully within its petals. Sheltered spaces may contain alcohol, sweets, games, toys, music, drugs, books, instruments— anything capable of drawing the vessel deeper into indulgence.
The objects are real. They feel real, food tastes real, and they all satisfy, too.
The Garden responds eagerly to its use ever time. Paths widen, flowers bloom brighter, and the air grows warmer as indulgence continues among vessels. At the same time, subtle shifts begin to take hold. The pollen thickens, the sweetness becomes heavier, and vines creep closer to well-traveled spaces, brushing against ankles and legs as though testing their very boundaries. The more vessels indulge, the more the Garden thrives, and the harder it becomes to imagine leaving when everything they desire is right within reach.
Under a pink moon that hangs low above the canopy, the forest responds differently to Beastkin Tokens and Lycan Offerings. Scents sharpen and layer richly in the air. The hum of life beneath the soil grows louder, vibrating through bone and animal instinct. The floating pollen enhances instinct rather than dulling it. Hunger, territoriality, the urge to roam or chase press closer to the surface. The Garden may conjure open stretches of moonlit forest for running, fleeting silhouettes that invite pursuit, or rival presences that vanish just ahead of your grasp. Indulgence here may take the form of movement, dominance, or surrender to instinct beneath that glowing sky. The more these instincts are indulged, the more the forest reshapes itself to accommodate them, you, clearing paths forward, closing them behind, and making your hunts all the more exhilirating.
Token Effects
β’ Tokens may temporarily lose track of time spent in the Garden.
β’ A Token who indulges repeatedly may find decision-making delayed or softened, hesitating when asked to leave, choose violence, or break comfort.
β’ Emotional responses skew toward contentment and nostalgia. Irritation and fear are harder to access unless provoked sharply.
β’ Tokens may unconsciously rationalize indulgence, defending their choices even when questioned by others.
β’ After waking, Tokens can retain phantom cravings or habits tied to what they indulged in, persisting for a short time in the waking world.
Offering Effects
β’ Offerings may feel an increased urge to facilitate indulgence rather than prevent it, guiding Tokens toward comfort, distraction, or pleasure.
β’ Protective instincts soften; instead of guarding against danger, Offerings may prioritize keeping the Token relaxed and satisfied.
β’ Offerings might become indulgent themselves by proxy, gaining emotional satisfaction from watching or enabling their Tokenβs enjoyment.
β’ When indulgence is interrupted, Offerings may feel mild irritation or disappointment disproportionate to the situation.
β’ Upon waking, Offerings may recall the dream with unusual fondness, even if nothing dramatic occurred within it.
Beastkin Tokens & Lycan Offerings Specific Effects
β’ Beastkin Tokens may experience heightened body awareness, reacting more strongly to terrain, scent trails, and movement through space.
β’ Repetitive motion (running paths, circling clearings, pacing) can become grounding and soothing rather than restless.
β’ Lycan Offerings may feel compelled to remain nearby without overt guarding, choosing proximity over patrol or vigilance.
β’ Subtle pack dynamics can emerge naturally, with unspoken positioning, shared pacing, or mirroring behavior during indulgence.
β’ After waking, both may feel briefly unsettled by confined spaces or inactivity, as if the body expects continued motion.
α
I've Developed A Taste For You
( content warnings: sexual content, aphrodisiac/sex pollen themes, coercion and impaired consent, restraint/bondage, dominance and submission themes, group sexual activity, possessiveness/territorial behavior, altered mental state. )
Deeper within the Garden lies a secluded expanse enclosed by dense growth that blocks sound and sight, forming a space that feels deliberately intimate. Vegetation grows close together, walls of leaves and vines pulsing faintly with warmth. Narrow beams of filtered light illuminate patches of soft ground and clusters of flowers that drip thick, honey-like nectar.
The air here is saturated with pollen that acts as a powerful aphrodisiac. Breathing it in heightens sensation immediately, making skin more reactive, touch more intense, and proximity impossible to ignore. Every sound feels closer than it should. Every movement carries weight.
The vines guide bodies together, coiling around ankles, wrists, and torsos, holding vessels in place until closeness is acknowledged. Resistance causes the grip to tighten insistently, while participation loosens it and rewards it with warmth and pressure that borders on pleasure.
The flora actively takes part for those who allow it. Vines may restrain, blindfold, or position bodies, holding them steady or pulling them closer. Some respond to voice and movement, tightening rhythmically, teasing, or delivering sharp sensations when struck or commanded. Flowers open at the sound of breath and noise, releasing thicker clouds of pollen that intensify arousal and blur restraint further.
Nectar drips freely from petals, sweet and sticky, suited for tasting, smearing, and shared indulgence, its effects compounding with every use. For Vessels willing to surrender more fully, the Garden offers deeper participation through vines capable of penetration, domination, and restraint, shaping themselves to suit acts of intimacy, control, and your very desire.
Every indulgence strengthens the ecosystem. The more Vessels give themselves over, the more responsive and possessive the Garden becomes, reshaping itself around desire until intention and influence begin to bleed into one another.
Under the same pink moon, visible here only in fragments through breaks in the canopy, Beastkin Tokens and Lycan Offerings feel instinct surge sharply to the surface of their consciousness. Scent becomes overwhelming, layered with skin, nectar, and earth. Territoriality, dominance, and physical closeness intensify, shaped by their nature rather than restrained by it. Vines will respond readily, coiling like extensions of instinct, guiding movement and contact. The urge to claim space, to press closer, to bare teeth or mark territory grows stronger beneath the moonlight. The Garden magnifies these impulses, encouraging surrender to physicality and sensation as the forest itself seems to breathe in time with their wild pulse.
Token Effects
Offering Effects
The air here is saturated with pollen that acts as a powerful aphrodisiac. Breathing it in heightens sensation immediately, making skin more reactive, touch more intense, and proximity impossible to ignore. Every sound feels closer than it should. Every movement carries weight.
The vines guide bodies together, coiling around ankles, wrists, and torsos, holding vessels in place until closeness is acknowledged. Resistance causes the grip to tighten insistently, while participation loosens it and rewards it with warmth and pressure that borders on pleasure.
The flora actively takes part for those who allow it. Vines may restrain, blindfold, or position bodies, holding them steady or pulling them closer. Some respond to voice and movement, tightening rhythmically, teasing, or delivering sharp sensations when struck or commanded. Flowers open at the sound of breath and noise, releasing thicker clouds of pollen that intensify arousal and blur restraint further.
Nectar drips freely from petals, sweet and sticky, suited for tasting, smearing, and shared indulgence, its effects compounding with every use. For Vessels willing to surrender more fully, the Garden offers deeper participation through vines capable of penetration, domination, and restraint, shaping themselves to suit acts of intimacy, control, and your very desire.
Every indulgence strengthens the ecosystem. The more Vessels give themselves over, the more responsive and possessive the Garden becomes, reshaping itself around desire until intention and influence begin to bleed into one another.
Under the same pink moon, visible here only in fragments through breaks in the canopy, Beastkin Tokens and Lycan Offerings feel instinct surge sharply to the surface of their consciousness. Scent becomes overwhelming, layered with skin, nectar, and earth. Territoriality, dominance, and physical closeness intensify, shaped by their nature rather than restrained by it. Vines will respond readily, coiling like extensions of instinct, guiding movement and contact. The urge to claim space, to press closer, to bare teeth or mark territory grows stronger beneath the moonlight. The Garden magnifies these impulses, encouraging surrender to physicality and sensation as the forest itself seems to breathe in time with their wild pulse.
Token Effects
β’ Sex pollen dramatically increases libido and lowers inhibition. Restraint becomes difficult to maintain in close proximity to their Offering/Tether.
β’ Vines respond more readily to Tokens, coiling around wrists, thighs, or hips at their unspoken command, assisting in pulling partners closer or holding them in place.
β’ Heightened dominance instinct. Tokens may feel compelled to physically position their Offering or guide additional partners into shared contact.
β’ Delayed climax and intensified arousal curve. Stimulation builds slowly but relentlessly, demanding escalation before release is possible.
β’ Stronger territorial urges that may manifest as possessive touch, visible marking (bites, scratches, imprints left by vines), or insistence on being the focal point.
β’ Increased openness to group dynamics. The pollen dulls jealousy and replaces it with competitive hunger or exhibitionistic thrill.
β’ Sensitivity to visual and auditory feedback. Moans, trembling, and visible pleasure act as accelerants.
β’ After climax, arousal may reignite quickly if vines remain in contact, creating cycles of repeated stimulation.
Offering Effects
β’ Sex pollen heightens physical responsiveness. Arousal triggers quickly and intensely, even from indirect contact or vine pressure.
β’ Vines tend to restrain or spread the Offering more often, guiding posture and exposing vulnerable areas to touch.
β’ Increased suggestibility. Coaxing from their Token/Tether or physical encouragement from vines feels compelling and pleasurable rather than coercive.
β’ Shorter path to orgasm. Climaxes may arrive suddenly and powerfully, especially when restrained or held in place.
β’ Heightened desire to be touched, filled, or pressed againstβphysical closeness feels necessary rather than optional.
β’ Greater willingness to participate in shared intimacy. Additional partners may feel inviting rather than threatening.
β’ Emotional attachment intensifies during and after climax. Physical pleasure deepens the tether bond.
β’ Post-climax sensitivity spikes; even light contact from vines or skin may provoke aftershocks or overstimulation.
α
Won't You Say That You Will
( content warnings: psychological horror, paranoia, identity distortion/impostor themes, stalking and predation, body horror, transformation, emotional manipulation, obsession/fixation, abandonment themes, possessiveness, isolation, anxiety, mistrust, loss of control. )
There is no sense of departure from the garden following the dream's transition, no moment where the air changes or the ground gives way. One second the dream feels familiar enough to be trusted, and the next it no longer behaves according to the rules it had just taught you. Space stretches in ways that do not correspond to movement. Pathways that should lead somewhere simply continue, folding back on themselves, their angles all wrong.
Suddenly, it's quite cold. Terrible winter winds brew and ice creeps through the newly forming geometry. There are no signs explaining where you are or how you arrived to this now strange, blank canvas of a place stricken with the worst of winter cold. The Backrooms assert themselves through repetition and absence, through hallways that refuse to end and rooms that look as though they were abandoned mid-thought. The air smells faintly of dust and something chemical, thick clouds following your breath. The longer you remain, the more your sense of sequence erodes. It becomes difficult to say whether you have been walking for minutes or hours, or whether the others near you have always been there or only just appeared. Perhaps you'll start losing the feeling you have in your extremities.
Beneath that confusion runs a quieter tension, one that does not feel native to the architecture itself. The space reacts strangely to closeness. When you move nearer to another presence, the lights flicker more often. When you pull away, corridors seem to lengthen. There is an impression, difficult to articulate but persistent, that something is monitoring these shifts, responding the most to hesitation. What does it want from you . . . ? No clue.
That uncertainty carries a familiar weight. Somewhere within the structure of this place is One, though he does not appear in any singular form. His influence manifests through moments of contradiction: doors that almost open, sounds that resemble footsteps but never resolve into a source, and the persistent sense that reassurance is being offered and withdrawn at the same time. There is no overt threat in this presence, but there is desperation threaded through it, a need for proximity paired with the fear that closeness will inevitably end in loss. The environment reflects this conflict, holding you near without fully committing to keeping you around. What's worse— Strange encounters here may happen when paths overlap, when attention lingers too long on a singular spot, or when curiosity outweighs caution.
A Skin-Stealer may be noticed first. At a distance, it looks human enough to pass, moving with an awkward imitation of natural motion, but when closer, details fail to align. Skin does not quite fit the frame beneath it, stretching or sagging where it should not. If you interact with it directly, so much as a call, you may experience a strong sense of familiarity paired with discomfort, as though someone you recognize is wearing themselves incorrectly. Yes— They shall take the form of those you know. Prolonged exposure induces disorientation and mistrust with others. Vessels may begin second-guessing the identities of those around them, hesitating before responding to voices or approaching new figures. If the Skin-Stealer makes physical contact, panic responses spike sharply, and the instinct to flee or isolate becomes overwhelming. The safest response is distance and verification through group presence; these entities struggle to maintain cohesion when closely observed by multiple people at once.
Jerry's presence, on the other hand, is quieter but far more . . . Dangerous? He appears as a thin, dark bird, out of place and almost gentle against the harsh geometry of the Backrooms. Encountering Jerry produces an immediate emotional softening. Characters may feel an unexpected calm, nostalgia, or a pull toward simple comforts that do not logically exist here. Physical contact deepens this effect rapidly. Those who touch or hold Jerry may find their priorities shifting, attention narrowing, and thoughts circling around him with increasing intensity. Speech becomes repetitive, often affectionate or reverent in tone toward Jerry. Decision-making slows, replaced by an urge to stay close and keep Jerry safe. Over time, this devotion can override self-preservation entirely. Characters caught in this state may resist leaving Jerry behind, argue against practical plans, downplay obvious threats, and at their worst— worship or even wish to sacrifice for Jerry. Separation is possible, but it is emotionally painful, leaving behind a hollowed, grieving sensation that lingers long after the encounter ends.
Partygoers announce themselves through atmosphere before they are ever seen. Decorations appear where they should not exist as posters promising celebration and bright colors clashing violently with the monotony of the halls. When Partygoers enter an area, the tension shifts sharply to predation. These entities observe first, testing reactions, learning movement patterns. Characters may feel watched even when alone, with pressure building behind the eyes and a rising sense of being studied. Once engagement with them begins, Partygoers will attempt to herd rather than chase, using obstacles, noise, and misinformation to separate individuals from groups. Physical contact initiates rapid escalation of these effects. Those seized by their arm-mouths will experience intense sensory distortion, pain quickly giving way to numbness and intrusive thoughts that do not feel entirely their own. Early stages of transformation may cause affected characters to fixate on group dynamics, viewing others less as allies and more as resources or threats— until they too, may become one of them. Resistance is possible but time-sensitive, and intervention by others is critical to limit a Vessel's transformation. Partygoers do not act alone, and escape from them often depends on breaking line of sight and disrupting their coordination rather than brute force against them— You'll hardly ever win, in that case.
Throughout all of this, One's influence grows increasingly erratic. The Backrooms respond more dramatically to moments of connection and separation, lights stuttering when bonds are tested, hallways bending when someone considers leaving another behind. His presence presses closer in moments of intimacy as scrutiny, a palpable fear threaded through these reactions, and the sense that reassurance is being sought but never believed. Echoes of his internal conflict surface in fleeting impressions: the urge to cling paired with the certainty that abandonment is inevitable, the desire for closeness tangled with the impulse to wound before being wounded. This tension mirrors the emotional core underlying everything here, from promises feeling fragile, even when spoken sincerely, to Vessels finding themselves questioning not only the intentions of others, but their own.
The longer you remain, the clearer it becomes that progression here is not linear. There is no single path forward, only moments of proximity that rearrange the space around you. What follows this depends not on where you go next, but on who you choose to stay near, who you pull away from, and which promises you are willing to believe, even when you suspect they may not last.
The dream does not conclude so much as it fails to hold together. Somewhere within the shifting halls of the Backrooms, One becomes convinced that what anchored him has slipped away, and that belief fractures his ability to remain. The space reacts unevenly as his presence withdraws: corridors stretch and then collapse into themselves, lights hum without source, entities lose their rhythm, and the emotional pressure that bound Vessels together spikes sharply before snapping. For those still inside, sensations intensify all at once, where closeness turns unbearable, attachment feels abruptly severed, and attempts to reach for reassurance meet only distortion— until the dream can no longer sustain shared coherence. One by one, Vessels are torn awake mid-thought or mid-motion, breath catching as consciousness returns too fast, leaving behind the sense of being dropped rather than released, with unresolved desire, fixation, or unease lingering long after your eyes open.
Something else has awakened. "Awareness".
Token Effects
Suddenly, it's quite cold. Terrible winter winds brew and ice creeps through the newly forming geometry. There are no signs explaining where you are or how you arrived to this now strange, blank canvas of a place stricken with the worst of winter cold. The Backrooms assert themselves through repetition and absence, through hallways that refuse to end and rooms that look as though they were abandoned mid-thought. The air smells faintly of dust and something chemical, thick clouds following your breath. The longer you remain, the more your sense of sequence erodes. It becomes difficult to say whether you have been walking for minutes or hours, or whether the others near you have always been there or only just appeared. Perhaps you'll start losing the feeling you have in your extremities.
Beneath that confusion runs a quieter tension, one that does not feel native to the architecture itself. The space reacts strangely to closeness. When you move nearer to another presence, the lights flicker more often. When you pull away, corridors seem to lengthen. There is an impression, difficult to articulate but persistent, that something is monitoring these shifts, responding the most to hesitation. What does it want from you . . . ? No clue.
That uncertainty carries a familiar weight. Somewhere within the structure of this place is One, though he does not appear in any singular form. His influence manifests through moments of contradiction: doors that almost open, sounds that resemble footsteps but never resolve into a source, and the persistent sense that reassurance is being offered and withdrawn at the same time. There is no overt threat in this presence, but there is desperation threaded through it, a need for proximity paired with the fear that closeness will inevitably end in loss. The environment reflects this conflict, holding you near without fully committing to keeping you around. What's worse— Strange encounters here may happen when paths overlap, when attention lingers too long on a singular spot, or when curiosity outweighs caution.
A Skin-Stealer may be noticed first. At a distance, it looks human enough to pass, moving with an awkward imitation of natural motion, but when closer, details fail to align. Skin does not quite fit the frame beneath it, stretching or sagging where it should not. If you interact with it directly, so much as a call, you may experience a strong sense of familiarity paired with discomfort, as though someone you recognize is wearing themselves incorrectly. Yes— They shall take the form of those you know. Prolonged exposure induces disorientation and mistrust with others. Vessels may begin second-guessing the identities of those around them, hesitating before responding to voices or approaching new figures. If the Skin-Stealer makes physical contact, panic responses spike sharply, and the instinct to flee or isolate becomes overwhelming. The safest response is distance and verification through group presence; these entities struggle to maintain cohesion when closely observed by multiple people at once.
Jerry's presence, on the other hand, is quieter but far more . . . Dangerous? He appears as a thin, dark bird, out of place and almost gentle against the harsh geometry of the Backrooms. Encountering Jerry produces an immediate emotional softening. Characters may feel an unexpected calm, nostalgia, or a pull toward simple comforts that do not logically exist here. Physical contact deepens this effect rapidly. Those who touch or hold Jerry may find their priorities shifting, attention narrowing, and thoughts circling around him with increasing intensity. Speech becomes repetitive, often affectionate or reverent in tone toward Jerry. Decision-making slows, replaced by an urge to stay close and keep Jerry safe. Over time, this devotion can override self-preservation entirely. Characters caught in this state may resist leaving Jerry behind, argue against practical plans, downplay obvious threats, and at their worst— worship or even wish to sacrifice for Jerry. Separation is possible, but it is emotionally painful, leaving behind a hollowed, grieving sensation that lingers long after the encounter ends.
Partygoers announce themselves through atmosphere before they are ever seen. Decorations appear where they should not exist as posters promising celebration and bright colors clashing violently with the monotony of the halls. When Partygoers enter an area, the tension shifts sharply to predation. These entities observe first, testing reactions, learning movement patterns. Characters may feel watched even when alone, with pressure building behind the eyes and a rising sense of being studied. Once engagement with them begins, Partygoers will attempt to herd rather than chase, using obstacles, noise, and misinformation to separate individuals from groups. Physical contact initiates rapid escalation of these effects. Those seized by their arm-mouths will experience intense sensory distortion, pain quickly giving way to numbness and intrusive thoughts that do not feel entirely their own. Early stages of transformation may cause affected characters to fixate on group dynamics, viewing others less as allies and more as resources or threats— until they too, may become one of them. Resistance is possible but time-sensitive, and intervention by others is critical to limit a Vessel's transformation. Partygoers do not act alone, and escape from them often depends on breaking line of sight and disrupting their coordination rather than brute force against them— You'll hardly ever win, in that case.
Throughout all of this, One's influence grows increasingly erratic. The Backrooms respond more dramatically to moments of connection and separation, lights stuttering when bonds are tested, hallways bending when someone considers leaving another behind. His presence presses closer in moments of intimacy as scrutiny, a palpable fear threaded through these reactions, and the sense that reassurance is being sought but never believed. Echoes of his internal conflict surface in fleeting impressions: the urge to cling paired with the certainty that abandonment is inevitable, the desire for closeness tangled with the impulse to wound before being wounded. This tension mirrors the emotional core underlying everything here, from promises feeling fragile, even when spoken sincerely, to Vessels finding themselves questioning not only the intentions of others, but their own.
The longer you remain, the clearer it becomes that progression here is not linear. There is no single path forward, only moments of proximity that rearrange the space around you. What follows this depends not on where you go next, but on who you choose to stay near, who you pull away from, and which promises you are willing to believe, even when you suspect they may not last.
The dream does not conclude so much as it fails to hold together. Somewhere within the shifting halls of the Backrooms, One becomes convinced that what anchored him has slipped away, and that belief fractures his ability to remain. The space reacts unevenly as his presence withdraws: corridors stretch and then collapse into themselves, lights hum without source, entities lose their rhythm, and the emotional pressure that bound Vessels together spikes sharply before snapping. For those still inside, sensations intensify all at once, where closeness turns unbearable, attachment feels abruptly severed, and attempts to reach for reassurance meet only distortion— until the dream can no longer sustain shared coherence. One by one, Vessels are torn awake mid-thought or mid-motion, breath catching as consciousness returns too fast, leaving behind the sense of being dropped rather than released, with unresolved desire, fixation, or unease lingering long after your eyes open.
Something else has awakened. "Awareness".
Token Effects
β’ Proximity dependency intensifies; physical distance from their Offering/Tethers causes agitation, shallow breathing, and intrusive thoughts about abandonment.Offering Effects
β’ Heightened sensitivity to tone and micro-expressions. Neutral gestures may be misread as rejection or withdrawal.
β’ Compulsion to seek verbal reassurance, even if they suspect the reassurance may be false.
β’ Increased fixation on touch as proof of presence. Tokens may repeatedly initiate contact to confirm their Offering/Tether is still there.
β’ Jealousy spikes in enclosed corridors; other figures in peripheral vision (real or not) may trigger possessive responses.
β’ Emotional volatility rises quickly from desire to defensiveness if they sense hesitation.
β’ After separation or forced distance, lingering obsession or replaying of final words heard may persist into waking.
β’ Intensified urge to control or stabilize their dynamic; Offerings may feel compelled to define their relationship in absolute terms.
β’ Heightened dominance or surrender impulses depending on personality baseline, with less moderation than usual.
β’ Increased temptation to test loyalty through emotional pressure or loaded statements.
β’ Possessiveness sharpens in tight, enclosed spaces; they may position themselves physically between their Token/Tethers and perceived threats.
β’ Strong reaction to perceived emotional withdrawal. Reassurance may be given urgently, excessively, or manipulatively.
β’ Physical closeness feels like leverage as well as comfort.
β’ Suspicion of abandonment may cause preemptive emotional distancing or sharp, reactive behavior.
β’ After waking, unresolved tension may manifest as fixation, defensiveness, or a need to revisit the conversation.
αNOTES
β€ Welcome to Somnia's TDM, which doubles as a gamewide event!
β€ This TDM is considered game canon.
β€ Only new characters are free to experiment with the Vessel options to your liking; this is a dreamscape, so multiple/different situations for you to really test which option you like most is possible. Current characters must remain as their chosen Vessel type unless you requested a switch, which can be done on the Taken page.
β€ All TDMs take place within a dreamscape, meaning characters can interact with the setting without needing to apply. Come have fun with us!
β€ This is the last TDM before the game's arc change, which will skip a TDM round— Thus, the next TDM will be scheduled only for October. This App round has no character cap, so please feel free to hop on before our break or another character cap!
β€ Questions? Please direct them to the designated questions comment linked below!
β€ This TDM is considered game canon.
β€ Only new characters are free to experiment with the Vessel options to your liking; this is a dreamscape, so multiple/different situations for you to really test which option you like most is possible. Current characters must remain as their chosen Vessel type unless you requested a switch, which can be done on the Taken page.
β€ All TDMs take place within a dreamscape, meaning characters can interact with the setting without needing to apply. Come have fun with us!
β€ This is the last TDM before the game's arc change, which will skip a TDM round— Thus, the next TDM will be scheduled only for October. This App round has no character cap, so please feel free to hop on before our break or another character cap!
β€ Questions? Please direct them to the designated questions comment linked below!
play a twisted little game
Eventually, he finds a nice, shadowed corner to settle in. A place where he can enjoy the sight of the flowers, the quiet pleasures around him. And he's been provided with his own: a fine cigar, set aside just for a moment, smoking gently in its flower-petal ashtray. Next to him, on a comfortable little hillock of soft grass, a bottle of wine.
Whiskey might be his usual drink of choice, but wine brings back good memories, and who isn't in need of those? He didn't think that hard about it when it appeared, nor about the fact that it's no fine vintage, but rather a just-passable pressing that was all he could afford when he was young and feeling flush.
Silco is in a rare good mood, and he knows it. He waves a hand, loose and easy, at the wine, looking up when someone approaches.]
Care for a glass? I wouldn't mind the company.
[And there is, indeed, a spare glass - as if company is, in and of itself, a sort of indulgence.]
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( The vending machine and the soda from earlier had been nostalgic to a fault, but if Suguru had to choose he would pick something with more bite. Still, he remains a little further away from this new stranger, a curious gaze passing briefly over him before any concern he has drifts merrily away. To Suguru he seems like the kind of man with information, if a person's outward appearance can give that away. And even if he isn't, there's a certain level of practice charming his elders.
Power, money, curses, wine. It's all the same.
The man in monk's robes smiles beatifically after a second, transferring caution to openness as he joins Silco, shaking out his sleeves once he's settled. )
I wouldn't mind the rest. The gardens are expansive. ( And strange. Suguru's head tips in greeting. ) You seem to be having a good time.
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[Silco obliges, pouring this stranger a glass of the wine, holding it out for him to take. No matter how much he pours, the wine bottle doesn't seem to run out. A little detail that might break the dream, if one thought about it too hard, but for once Silco isn't inclined to think too hard.
That probably won't last.]
This place seems bound and determined to make sure each and every one of us has a very good time.
[A trap, really, but one they mostly can't avoid falling into. Silco looks Suguru over - there's nothing about him that's familiar, which means he's either a creation of the dream, or a dreamer that Sleep pulled in. And if that's the case, he might end up in the city afterwards, so Silco ought to learn what he can.
Ah, that not thinking too hard didn't last long at all.]
Haven't you experienced it? Something you like, perhaps something you've wished for, found in such an odd place?
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( Mild, and friendly, no hint of how dark that statement really is. Because if Suguru thought about it, if he focused then he knows what he'd wish for. A world with monkeys. A world unshackled. Here, in the garden, the soft light glimmering, a stranger giving him wine - it does not feel close. He does not find himself grasping for it either. Shouldn't he? Nails clinging, desperate? No, it's fine.
And yet he wouldn't have accepted the glass, were he cognisant of it. He avoids that in the real world. )
There was a vending machine. Near the woods. That was out of place. No power source, but it was cool and lit from the inside. I thought it was strange - ( His brows furrow briefly. ) - do you know where we are?
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[He says it easily, agreeably. As if it's not a odd statement at all. Silco waves a hand, encompassing everything around them: the wine, the flowers, his cigar slowly smoking away.]
It's all a dream, every bit of it. I'm sure you could find anything you might wish for, if you were willing to look for long enough.
[And though Silco finds himself quite curious about what exactly this man might wish for, that wouldn't belong here, he refrains from asking, for now. A touch too direct. But Silco is quite familiar with the feeling. These are small pleasures, creature comforts, indulgences that aren't so far off from what anyone might like. Designed just for him, perhaps, but lacking most of the things he really wanted.
But he doesn't find himself frustrated by it. Distantly, Silco knows that's part of the dream, too.]
A powerful creature has pulled you in. Maybe she'll keep you, maybe she'll spit you back out. Maybe she'll give you everything you've ever wanted.
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( He laughs just like that, ha, ha. It's not that Suguru thinks the story is farfetched. There are curses that could do what this man is saying, he has seen it first hand. But there's no way he could have gone from bleeding to death in a dirty alleyway to this without Satoru's intervention. The Six Eyes would not have allowed himself pulled in -.
Would he have cared so much for Suguru alone? No, that's a foolish thought.
He takes a deeper drink of the sake. ) If that's the case then they need to do better than this. I have very specific tastes, and rice wine does not cut it.
( The obliteration of all humanity? His daughters' happiness? A second chance? )
Tell me more about this creature.
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A goddess named Sleep. A bit on the nose, isn't it, when you've been pulled into a dream? She has certain goals that inspire her to collect people, then use them to create power for herself. To worship her. Just the usual sort of thing - someone, something, looking for more power.
[Though Sleep is certainly not a usual sort of creature. But then, Silco doesn't know what sort of world this man came from. Maybe all-powerful eldritch creatures are perfectly normal for him.]
And what sort of things are you hoping for, then, if not rice wine? Perhaps I can point you in the right direction.
fuck i got what he was drinking mixed up w another thread forgive me mr silco
Worship.
( For a minute there's real feeling. The dark drip of his tone, teeth bared. A part of him rails against the idea that he is being coerced, controlled, used once more after he so violently removed himself from the last ones who tried. But the dream is a tricky beast, and the waves of it keep crashing over his head. He looks into his glass, tries to focus. )
Change, I think. But not goddess-given. I prefer to do things through my own merit. ( It's a heavy, ugly burden. ) Though it's beyond me now.
( Having failed. Being dead. )
I should be more annoyed. Isn't that funny?
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Bit of a wrong move, really. The figure quickly reveals itself to be a young woman with an impressively bad attitude, wandering lost through this dream until she just so happened to land right in the worst place at the worst time.
And Vi can hardly believe her eyes. For the moment there is no anger, only surprise.]
You?!
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And she'd be more than happy to do it.]
Violet.
[His grip on the wine bottle turns to something a little more defensive, like he might use it as a weapon. But the influence of the dream is too strong to spark him into action. He's unhappy to see her, anger bubbling beneath, but he can't quite find himself inspired to do anything about it.]
Never mind. You are not invited.
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I don't care about your fucking tea party.
[She cranes her neck to the side. A series of satisfying crrks follow. She could throw hands right now, but she's breathed in a lot of pollen. So the urge is sated. Somewhat.]
This is shaping up to be one of the worse dreams I've ever had.
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[He had hoped to never see her again - not in a dream, certainly not in Manhattan. But if he's lucky, Sleep will leave her in this dream, and his troubles won't continue.
The thought perks him up a bit.]
Though I'm sure it wouldn't be any different than you're used to, considering the state of your life. Hasn't the whole thing been a bit of a bad dream?
[Silco takes a sip of his wine - appearing casual as he can, though really, it's a fortifying sip. Preparing for whatever comes from this encounter.]
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Yeah, nothing like a drugged-up undercity and a stint in Stillwater to make you feel like things are really coming up. [To say nothing of. Everything else.] Speaking of, city's doing well. Someone from Zaun's sitting in the council. No thanks to you.
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[As dismissive as it sounds, of course it's true. Silco had one goal that drove most of his life, one end point that he wanted to reach. Naturally, he's not happy to be too dead to see it, but that it happened at all is something.]
Though I wouldn't discount my part in it so easily. Zaun was what it was because of me.
[And even if it really had nothing at all to do with him - it's the outcome that matters. It's always been the outcome.]
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You could say that. The drug lords, the child labor. I saw all the stuff you and your friends built.
Gotta say, tearing it all down was pretty satisfying.
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Apt.
It wasn't a perfect comparison by any stretch, but even if he wasn't sitting on a mushroom smoking a hookah, there was something to the way the man lounged among the glowing flora, smoke curling around him, with an atmosphere of calculated elegance, mystery, and piercing intelligence, that clicked the parallel into place in his mind.
When he's spotted and invited for a drink, Bart doesn't hesitate to nod appreciatively. Walking forward into the clearing, he takes a careful seat in front of Silco, looking up at him curiously.]
You remind me of somethin' from a book. Can't remember what it's called, though.
[And that was wrong, wasn't it? Usually, he remembered everything. Even the stuff he shouldn't. The stuff that got erased.
The fact that so many of his memories feel so far away, that his thoughts feel so slow, should be alarming. But he can't get a grip on that feeling, it slips away from him as easily as wine slips from a bottle.]
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[Silco can't imagine what book this young man might be talking about, but it does pique his curiosity. He pours Bart a glass of wine, offers it. There's no drinking age in Zaun, so Silco does not for a moment consider that Bart might be too young - he looks mostly grown, at least, so it's fine.]
Hmm. A good one, I hope. Something with intrigue, drama. Maybe a few murders.
[He looks Bart over. No one he recognizes, and he doesn't have the somewhat distinct look of a Zaunite. It's fairly unlikely he's from Silco's world - there have been a few, but all people he knows. Like Sleep enjoys plucking people in clusters. But if the boy isn't from Runeterra, then Silco ought to learn what he can. More information is always better.
Besides. He's in such a pleasant mood, and he did want some company.]
I'm afraid I didn't have much time for reading back home. Is that something you enjoyed?
[In a peaceful world, perhaps?]
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Idly swirling the contents of the glass as he stared into it, he thinks over whether the book was as Silco described, missing the little red flags that description might normally tick off.]
I think it might have, actually. There was somethin'bout "off with her head". Came up a lot.
[When asked if he enjoyed reading, he gives a quick, matter-of-fact response, before he could even put a solid thought into it. A simple-]
No.
[For a moment, that seems like that might be all he has to say on the matter as he looks down at the lightly swirling liquid in his glass. Almost mesmerized by the movement. But after a second ticks by, he softly adds a hit of context.]
Thought it would help me be better. It didn't.
[Again, a flatly spoken matter of fact.
But after another pause, he looks back up at Silco curiously again.]
Why didn't you have time back home?
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I was quite a busy man. Running an organization, keeping my people in line, shouting 'off with her head' when someone got on my bad side. That sort of thing.
[He's joking, sort of. Or it would be easy to take as a joke, in any case, though most of it is true.]
I didn't have much time to relax at all. [And, frankly, he wouldn't have if he did. Silco's been called a workaholic - usually by his daughter - and even he can't say that's entirely wrong. He likes to stay busy.] So this is a bit of a change.
[And distantly, for a moment, he wonders - why is it? Why is he just sitting here, drinking wine and chatting with a stranger, when he could be getting things done? But it's easy to justify. He's learning about someone, someone who might be useful later.]
You wanted to be better? Why? You seem perfectly fine as you are.
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Kept screwin' up. No one trusted me. I didn't trust myself. [ His right hand unconsciously clenches at the fabric on the leg of his shorts, above a knee with a distinct, messy, surgical scar.] Thought bein' smarter would help make me more reliable.
[After a pause, he tips his drink back, downing about a third of what's left in the glass. Silently agreeing with the thing clouding his mind, that he didn't want to ruminate on that.]
[Rolling Silco's words around in his head to get a better grip on them, it's easy to take the "joke" at face value. It's not the first time he's heard a joke like that. Something about business being "cutthroat". But paired with that description before, it was definitely something that should have set off a red flag. Would have, if he were in his right mind. Even now, some part of him is alarmed by that. But Bart has a bigger weakness than his knee or his supposed unreliability; the desire to see the best in people. And right now, in this place that makes it so much easier to indulge desires, with this generous and encouraging stranger, that desire is winning out. The wine is also probably not helping.
Chewing his lower lip, he mulls his words over before voicing them this time.]
Running an organization...you have to be in charge of a lot'a people, right? Does it ever get overwhelming? Having that many people relyin' on you? Lookin' up to ya?
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Of course, that's all out of his reach now. But there are some things that are almost habit.]
Everyone makes mistakes. What matters is what we do afterwards, and it sounds like you tried very hard to make up for your mistakes. Didn't they see that?
[Said so reasonably.]
And I wouldn't call it overwhelming.
[In truth, Silco didn't think much about it. He didn't claw his way to the top to enjoy the adoration of his underlings. Some of them admired him, some of them feared him, some of them only cared about the things they got from working with him: money, power, respect. Some of them surely hated him.
To him, they were nothing more than a resource. Something to be used. There was a balance, of course: if he didn't cultivate them properly, ensure they had what they needed and had a reason to follow him, then they would drift away or turn on him. But he never did it because he cared for any of them. Silco's rotten, distrustful heart only has room for a very small number of people.]
It was a responsibility, one of many. And I take my responsibilities very seriously. Just another reason I rarely had time to relax. [The faintest of smiles.] What's your name?
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[ there's warmth to her voice. she's genuinely glad to see him. perhaps it's the influence of the garden, or perhaps it's their similar natures, but all the same...
... she somehow finds herself relieved to run into him, rather than another stranger.
how odd to see him in a good mood. her smile tips up into something warm and genuine at his invitation.
she'll settle at his side, neither too close nor too far, and won't immediately accept his offer. ]
Such simple pleasures. Of course... in our situation, I suppose little things like this are luxuries.
[ she'll glance at him and the wine he holds. then she huffs through her nose, a very quiet laugh. ]
Well, if you're offering.
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[He's pleased to see her, as well. While it's true that Silco's inclined to be pleased with any company currently, coaxed into indulgence by the garden around them, that doesn't mean the fondness is untrue. Just brought to the surface more easily than it might otherwise be.]
Indeed. Likely there's some horrible trap lying beneath, but until it begins to close, we may as well enjoy what we can.
[Not his usual philosophy, which tends to be more like: if there might be a trap, plan for it, create your own trap and ready the jaws to snap shut the moment your enemy makes their move. But he's in an awfully pleasant mood.
Silco pours her a glass, hands it over.]
The vintage might not be as fine as you're used to.
[Not an apology, just a warning.]
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it's the sweetness of the pollen on her skin, smoothing away any burs in her mood, that keeps her from the whisper of misgiving she might have otherwise felt.
if only.
she'll huff a laugh, smiling faintly. ]
It's funny you say that...
[ she'll accept the glass, swirling the wine and giving it a sniff. her smile warms, and she takes a sip, staring out into the garden. ]
You weren't here for the dream of the banquet, were you? I said the exact same thing, at the time. The night was so long, and we were all dressed beautifully, as befits a grand banquet. What else was there to do but enjoy it while it lasted? So I danced the night away.
The vintage is just fine, by the way. [ her smile goes crooked. ] I've had finer, but I've also had far worse.