Good morning, Cadelle!
As March takes its final bow to make way for April, we're sure you're without a doubt wondering with bated breath if the city will somehow experience another deluge from the skies above or some other kind of natural disaster. After all, there's probably a number of you familiar with the concept of April showers, right? Despite the predictability that the first of the month tends to bring, the sun rises on a new month without much fanfare at all. The skies don't open up, the earth doesn't quake, and perhaps most disappointing of all, there's no fun activities to partake in hosted by the city's beloved Volunteer Coordinators, Flora and Cornelius.
However, that’s not to say nothing exciting has happened. Mayor Drake’s gone missing — in reality, she’s simply headed south of the border for a little much-needed R&R — and while the mayor’s away, the cats will play. (Or is that the other way around?)
As the sun begins to rise, it’s clear that there’s certainly something in the air. Check your CuddlePhone, and you might notice a strange crackling sound, as if you’d wandered into a field of static electricity; try to access anything but the city’s main pages and you’ll be greeted with a cheerful yellow message. Strange, but it may be worth reading:
DEAR CITIZENRY:
It has come to our attention that the city of Cadelle has begun a dangerous descent into a dungeon of disaster. Debauchery, drag racing, and even drunken revelry have begun to pervade our once-wholesome city, turning our citizenry into a class of common courtesans and charlatans! We shall not settle for such shameful social airs! Resist raunchy recklessness, Cadellians, or be redressed!
— CCC
The Concerned Citizens of Cadelle
While there’s admittedly quite a lot of alliteration to be found in said message, there’s not exactly a lot of meaning here. Should you head to City Hall for answers, you’ll find yourself greeted by the ever cheerful, smiling face of Doris Delatante — conveniently enough, the same Doris who so happens to be wearing a pin emblazoned with the logo of the CCC. (For the curious, said logo is a cat. They may be wordsy, but no one said they were particularly clever.)
You won’t get much in the way of answers out of Doris, only calm reassurances that everything is as it should be. It’s fine, of course! What could possibly be wrong with a little call to action? It’s only in the best interest of the city, isn’t it?
Whatever the reason, and whatever you think about Doris’ strange all-pink attire, it’s hardly the strangest thing you’ll experience in the coming days. Over the course of the following 24 hours, the city and its inhabitants begin to find themselves… well, shall we say, adjusted?
▸ As soon as the sun comes up on the morning of the first, a gentle breeze begins to blow through the city. With it comes a subtle change. You may notice it straight away, or you may not notice at all… but regardless, the change still comes: no swearing. No, really, we mean it. No matter how fervently or desperately you try, anything more colorful than a golly won’t slip past your lips… or your pen tips, for that matter. Any attempts to do so will result in comically ridiculous substitutions — like bullshirt, motherforker, or fish sticks!
▸ By mid-morning, the rays of the sun have left the city in perpetual spring warmth. It’s a beautiful day, complete with merrily chirping birds and the sweet smell of flowers blooming in every corner of the city. The day should stay beautiful, shouldn’t it? So perhaps it’s with no surprise that even your naked body won’t disparage it… as nudity, even seemingly innocuous moments like showering, is met with censorship. Should you disrobe to your birthday suit, you’ll be met with sudden and efficient pixelization from the neck down, blurring out all those distasteful parts of you a la the Sims. This might make getting frisky a bit difficult…
▸ Finally, by the time your first meal of the day rolls around, you might find yourself ready for a hot meal on the go, or perhaps just another cup of coffee. No matter whether you stop at your usual joint or wander around looking for something new, every delicious delectable food item you’ve been enjoying will have been replaced by the gently spinning faces of self-serve froyo machines. Shops look normal on the outside… but inside, you’ll be greeted with the florescent glow of your favorite (or perhaps least favorite ) trendy frozen yogurt shop. Come in for coffee and you might be irritated yet amused, but the flavors don’t stop at cheesecake or chocolate or caffe mocha. Nope! Keep exploring, and you’ll be greeted with such strange offerings as pasta flavored froyo, complete with marinara or alfredo flavored cookie crumbles, or bacon and eggs froyo with sausage sprinkles … or, for the desperate, beer flavored froyo. (Bar nuts cost extra… and yes, that froyo’s a virgin. Alcohol would ruin the consistency!)
It’s not the worst thing in the world, but it certainly doesn’t feel like you’re in the Cadelle you’ve come to know and love, does it? Hopefully Mayor Drake will come back sooner rather than later, but until then… well, we suppose you’ll just have to make the best of this Good Place!
Isn’t this sweet? April Fool’s, Cuddlers! We hope you enjoy this particularly silly spring event, brought to you by a meddling citizen and her penchant for good behavior… and your mod team’s recent bingewatch of a topical NBC comedy. We hope you’ll have fun ruining the bad behavior of your characters, even if they won’t have much fun with it!
If you have any further questions specific to this event, we encourage you to ask away on our QUESTIONS COMMENT here in this post. If you have general questions, or prefer a more private venue, our GENERAL INBOX (and SCREENED INBOX) is always available for you. In addition, if you've got an idea for a future event, feel free to drop us a line at our EVENTS SUGGESTION POST.
Have fun out there, and just remember: be excellent to each other! |
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cuddlecity2018-04-01 10:03 am
Frank Castle | OTA
"Flying bag of chicken sucking wrenches," or something like that is what fell from his lips. With a defeated sigh, he makes his way out of the building and to the city hall.
"I'm considering staging a revolution," the marine remarks dryly to the shadow on the cobblestone approaching next to him without taking his eyes off the garish pink display.
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The answer is soft, amused. Claire comes up to Frank's level, looking up at their building ahead.
"Think you might want to ride this one out, Frank."
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"Don't suppose you know what the blue skies is going on?"
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At his question, she shrugs. "According to this text we got, looks like we're being... I don't know, taught a lesson, or something. We're just too naughty," she says, a half smile on her face. "The food situation... that's what worries me. I don't care about the pixels or not cursing, but the food thing is actually unhealthy. Froyo is not going to give us the nutrients we need."
Biting her lip, she looks at him. "And then there's the alcohol. Are you - doing okay?"
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A flash of guilt ghosts across his face and he averts his gaze for a moment before he mumbles his quiet little confession.
"I've been taking something else."
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"Okay," she replies, moving straight on to the next part.
"Sleeping pills?"
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"There's this sparkly guy in this store." You know, the kind of guy Frank would jerk his chin towards and say 'hey you've got something on your eye' and he'd reply 'dude it's called eyeliner'. The more he talks the more the words get slurred and jumbled together.
"I'm guessing it's some new age homeopathic homebrew sh-shhheep." Small shrug. "I know I- I don't deserve it, but. It works."
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"Have you taken some now?"
She moves closer at his slurred words, worry written all over her features. She completely ignores the rest of what he says, because she disagrees, but there's nothing she could say that could make Frank change his mind. "Do you need help getting up to your apartment?"
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"Yeah. I'm-" His breath lodges in his throat. "fine." He makes eye contact briefly before he lowers his gaze again. Still waiting for the easy way out to rip him to shreds but so far he's still alive and not paying for it.
"It'll pass, won't it? All this." He's talking about the kiddy gloves that have enveloped this town but she could be forgiven for thinking he's referring to what he's going through.
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"Hey, c'mon. Let's get you inside, yeah?"
She starts pulling him towards the building, free hand going for her keys in her pocket.
"All this, as in the PG rating that's going on? I think so. So far, everything always comes and goes."
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The soldier takes a deep breath to calm his nerves and dutifully follows along, mulling her words over.
"Uh, I'm- my place, it's- I wasn't expecting guests." He's not one to care about what other people think but all of a sudden he feels like it matters if she sees the booby trap he has to disarm to get in and if she realises he's been sleeping like a baby on the floor.
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"Yeah, somehow that doesn't surprise me. I don't care about your mess and your security, Frank," because she knows soldiers with PTSD and their paranoia. And she's absolutely truthful, she gives no damn about any of it.
"If there's something that needs to be done before it's safe to step inside, though, let me know. Or, if you'd rather, I can drop you on my couch."
It's no real hardship. After all, he's not bleeding, which is more than she can say about a lot of the times she's had someone crash on her couch.
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It's a fine wire down by his boots, just about invisible, that he pulls on to disarm his setup just outside his door. Straightening up, he looks over his shoulder as he opens his door and steps inside, holding it open for Claire.
His living space was more or less barren. No paintings on the walls or photographs or anything that marked it as his personal space other than whatever bit of electronics he was tinkering with on the table. There's pillows and sheets on the floor and the knife block in the kitchen was devoid of knives.
Closing the door behind her, his shoulders rise as he slips his hands into his back pockets and lowers his gaze, like he's already getting on the defensive expecting her to say something.
"D'you want some coffee?"
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Oops I forgot about the swearing thing my bad
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50/50
It makes up for the fact that he can't swear in English or Spanish, which is pretty much how he gets through any day, so he'll take what he can get.
"I've got two hands and three guns, you name the place," he says, not entirely sure if he's just joking.
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Make that two men, four hands and... more guns than they have hands. They might be getting somewhere now.
"Who's in charge 'round here, d'you know?" He's kind of surprised that the kiddyproof ban or whatever hasn't extended to walking Luckies advertisements.
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"Whoever it is, I've got many bones to pick," he says, irritated. "I think someone up there, though," he admits, with a gesture up towards the idiot pink place. "Why? You think you can talk sense into them?"
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"I was just gonna go in there and make him fix it. Or her." Or, you know. Shoot them. Isn't that the point of a revolution?
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He's there to watch someone get yelled at, but anything more troublesome and then the wish he made to get here starts becoming a problem. Can't very well be free and easy if you're worried about getting arrested again, can you?
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"I'll ask nicely the first time?" he adds. Is that the problem? Maybe that's the problem.
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He gestures for the other man to hold on a second, because they can fix it soon, he just needs to know what else is happening. "What fixing do we need?"
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"We're talkin'-... civil liberties. Or sommin'." Land of the free to die from poor life decisions and home of the brave enough to say stupid sliced cheese to offend everybody - or don't you know any of this stuff? Seriously Frank is the wrong person for this judicial talk.
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"We have food, roofs, they give us devices," he says. "Those seem like plenty of liberties to me." More than that, they don't hunt him down and he actually gets some respect. "The not swearing, though, that part you can shout about." Because he wants to start calling people motherduckers again sometime soon.
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"You want some backup for this? I can be very intimidating, you know," he promises, though he's not sure how that'll work with the new state of things. What if even his glaring is infected?
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"Yeah. I was- just gonna barge in and ask who's in charge. And figure it out from there." He's got that dull look of murder in his eyes when he looks over his shoulder at Vasquez, though it's not intended for the cowboy.
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