I’ll go for Author.
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Sign me up as Doctor then
I have shared character sheet links by private message (although you can all see each other’s, it just so the internet as a whole isn’t rummaging around in my spreadsheets).
Mostly this should be pretty straightforward: you tell me what you’re doing, I’ll ask for a 3D6 roll if necessary and let you know what happens. Your individual special notes are mostly for roleplaying and flavour but do have some relevance in game too so feel free to remind me of them if you think I’ve forgotten something.
If you somehow manage to start a fight, there’s a lot of options (you can try to spin-kick someone in the nadgers, you can uppercut, or you can just I Fight Them) so we’ll cross that bridge if that actually happens.
Being January, it is bitterly cold outside and a layer of snow covers the ground. The university hospital is on the outskirts of town, close to the university campus.
Once a manor house belonging to a former chancellor of the university, the building was left to the university in his will. A large set of iron gates opens through the eight-foot wall surrounding the grounds. The drive is long and wide, passing through a large garden decorated with immaculate topiary of geometric shapes.
just posting a bit of boxed text to get you in the mood 
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Each of you has struggled with sleeplessness, disturbed sleep and nightmares for a considerable time. For most of you, the problems began after a recent traumatic experience that seems to have influenced your dreams. For others, your insomnia is a long-term issue but has taken a more severe and disturbing turn after a recent traumatic event.
GM: you can choose which.
One way or another, you ran across the following advertisement for participants in a medical study of sleep disturbance, and contacted Dr. Thorne. You are all amongst those selected to participate, and are due to arrive at the university shortly.
You already know the basic outline of the study:
- A small group of patients will have medical readings taken before and after sleep.
- The contents and nature of any dreams will be explored in a group discussion, to help draw out memories and commonalities.
- Sedative drugs and hypnotism will be used to induce semi-consciousness and supervised lucid dreaming to directly address the underlying trauma.
- No contact with the outside world is allowed until the program had ended and the patient has left the hospital. Therapy is being conducted in a carefully controlled environment; external stimuli can disrupt this and affect the study’s results.
- Limited personal possessions are permitted into the ward; again, this is to avoid disrupting the therapy.
- No alcohol, opiates and other sleep-altering substances are permitted.
- Your participation in the study will consist of up to five sessions, each one month apart, lasting for seven nights.
(there are other groups of patients participating in the study at different times)
Please introduce your characters briefly (they’ll actually meet each other after they arrive)
How did you come across the advert and join the study?
Is there anything particular you would like to have done in the time leading up to the study?
Is there anything particular you’d like to bring with you, other than what is on your character sheet?
Vincent McQueen is a name you may know, a few steps above the dime magazines. He writes what Dorothy Parker dismissed as “horror for the little man”: a typical McQueen novel has the protagonist experiencing a small unexplained dislocation that somehow, with the logic of dreams, grows into the most important thing in the word.
The money means nothing to him, of course, but his editor’s been pressing him for more words, and he can’t get that recurrent dream about the tunnel and the rats out of his head. And you can really only use that in one story, maybe two if you use a pseudonym.
He’s packed a suitcase with good quality clothes, and a knapsack with cigarette-papers and tins of best Latakia. The night before he motors up to Albany, he goes out with friends, drinking and socialising and seeing how well he can do with no sleep at all (perhaps helped along by some of Scotty’s Bolivian marching powder) – can’t have that during the study! He’s apparently not taking it all terribly seriously, but he accepts that he has a problem and really does want to try to fix it.
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Stella Clairmont steps lightly off the bus from Bennington, a notebook in one hand and an overnight bag in the other. Beyond a few toiletries and change of clothes, her bag contains spare pencils and paper, the latest McQueen paperback, a hot water bottle and a flashlight. If there’s a ‘lights out’ policy at the hospital, her usual late night scribblings won’t be interrupted.
It took a lot of persuading from her husband before Stella answered Dr Thorne’s advertisement. Her husband has been getting increasingly alarmed by his wife waking up terrified in the middle of the night, trying to fend off someone (or something) that wasn’t there. And although she would never admit it, Stella is beginning to feel desperate herself.
Because Stella is a journalist through and through, she has already had a dig around for the low down on this Dr Thorne. Nothing headline grabbing yet but she intends to find out more during her stay at the hospital. She has justified her leave to her boss at the Bennington Post by promising to at least get a good story out of it.
roll me 3D6 to see how much you dig up in your investigations
I rolled 13 total (6,5,2). I hope it’s okay just rolling dice on my kitchen table!
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If you want the server to roll dice for you, {roll 3d6} only with [ square brackets ] rather than { braces }. But note that the server will grab the post ownership to stop you editing it afterwards.
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Table dice are fine! Rolling on here as Roger said is also fine 
13 is plenty, you’ve had a couple of weeks to read up on things in a leisurely way.
Thorne is an experienced doctor and psychologist, but not a public figure - he’s not turning up in interviews and gossip columns the way some do. What you find in the papers is basically more adverts seeking patients for various sleep, dream and trauma studies, going back about 10 years, but fairly sporadic.
You have the contacts and knowledge to dig around in professional publications and so on for less obvious leads.
Thorne graduated in 1901 and worked in medical practice for about 15 years, taking a particular interest in psychological disturbance as soldiers returned from the Great War.
He returned to academia in 1916 at the university hospital, training doctors and urging for greater attention to the mental trauma of patients, rather than purely physical injuries. He’s published on a range of medical and psychological topics, with a Jungian approach - so lots of archetypes, collective unconsciousness and so on, as well as use of mesmerism to expose subconscious traumas for treatment.
Since 1925 his work is almost exclusively on sleep disorders and dream research, to the point that a specialist sleep centre has been established at the University hospital. You find a brief article in the university newspaper about the opening of the centre last summer, and some of the remarks made. Thorne mentioned an outbreak of mania and disordered dreaming in early 1925 that had inspired this move, as it was obviously an under-studied area of medicine.
There’s nothing unusual about the doctor, the hospital or the university that you can see.
(you can do further research on any of those if you want, just let me know what - no more rolls needed for now)
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You would be able to bring a camera along, on the understanding that you won’t get in the way or photograph anything confidential. I mention this only because you’re quite a good photographer.
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Antonella de la Cavallería was one of the first passengers storming off the bus from Bennington, her mood soured at remaining convinced her younger brother was far too incompetent to run her antique shop “Tales Untold” in her absence. Nethertheless, she was very aware of how exhausted her insomnia had made her when she nearly forgot to haggle last week’s shipment, and Doctor Thorne seemed credible enough to help fix this problem.
Antonella considered packing light, confident that with Thorne’s help she would be sleeping normally again within a couple nights, (overconfidence check - 12 or less to resist: 1+3+6 = 10 success!) however on reflection she decided it would be prudent to pack spare clothes for more than a couple nights, as well as her pipe and tobacco, magnifying glass and matches. She also decided to bring along a trinket her mother had given to her during the immigration, hoping the good fortune it had brought them during that time of difficulty would similarly be bestowed here.
As Antonella nears the gate, her frustrated breaths slow as her curiosity calms her mood. she stops and quietly whistles, trying to date and analyse the grounds in front of her unsure of check: 6+4+1 = 11
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The clinging snow masks some of the finer detail, but the building is a good example of mid-Georgian architecture, and has clearly been kept in good condition. The original leaded windows are not known for their insulating properties - Antonella will be glad she packed a decent jersey. That being said, there are probably hulking cast-iron radiators inside. From the glimpses she can catch through the window, it doesn’t look like the manor was too badly desecrated in the conversion to medical use…
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Mr Duncan Howard stumbles off the bus in a fit of coughing, clutching a worn out duffel bag to his chest as he leans on the bus exterior to catch his breath. The tall, but haggard and slightly emaciated man, readjusts his tie and coat as he looks over the university building while stroking his chin, hoping for a chance to shave once inside.
The surgical oncologist trusts in his team to handle things in his absence, they have been since the incident, but his thoughts drift over all the things he wants to check once this is over and he is back in the hospital and able to walk the wards without heart palpitations.
One last check over his belongings, overnight clothes, grooming kit, a few emergency supplies, and the papers one of his fellows dug up for him. Duncan had asked for any papers Dr Thorne had published recently, but regrettably passed out exhausted at his desk before he could read them.
Taking a stern tone and straightening his back he mutters to himself, “Three days, Duncan. Maxwell has been fine so far, he can manage three days. Remember what he said; no going mad with boredom stuck in a hospital ward. Clean yourself up, get better, and then after the study get back on the tennis court, you’re getting fat.”
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Since the mainstream advice - a nice smooth tobacco to help soothe your troubled lungs - isn’t an option for you, you might well carry a tin or two of mints, pear drops or aniseed balls?
It’s been years since you saw Thorne in person, though you’ve exchanged letters now and again. You recall him as a considerate, determined fellow, a few years your senior. He was inclined to be flashy, and had a breezy confidence that could be off-putting; but unlike plenty of his contemporaries, he didn’t act like showing you the ropes and sharing his slightly greater experience was a magnanimous favour deserving of reverent gratitude.
Thorne always had an interest in the mind, and it was no great surprise when he started working with the veterans that trudged home from the trenches, broken in more ways than one. You’d read some of those monographs, and sometimes wished you hadn’t - fragmentary recollections of how monstrous Mankind is to its own children - they left you with renewed dedication to your healing vocation.
You know, vaguely, that in the last few years he’s been researching the interplay of memory, sleep, and trauma, and how the processes that turn a fleeting experience into enduring knots in the mind could be harnessed to unpick them. There’s never quite been time to look through those papers, but perhaps this is your chance. It’ll be good to see him again, even on rather different terms this time.
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also, just a heads-up to everyone as I didn’t spot this on the advert… three nights seems unrealistically short for the study described, so I’ve expanded it to seven nights. Just FYI. Feel free to treat it as an in-game thing that gets talked about; maybe there was a mistake on the advert?
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Stella is reassured by Dr Thorne’s credentials but is immediately struck by the opening of the sleep centre coinciding with the start of her nightmares. She has attributed her terrible dreams to one particular story she covered last summer but of course the incident hit many members of the community hard. And if there is such a thing as a collective consciousness, why not a collective unconsciousness?
Dr Thorne mentions an outbreak of ‘disordered dreaming’ in early 1925, so Stella would have reacquainted herself with any local news items from that time period which stuck around on the front page. Anything that might have gotten under the community’s skin, so to speak.
( And of course Stella brings her beloved camera!)
You recall a slightly sensationalist article about an ‘epidemic’ of vivid dreams around that time - the sort of thing you’d normally only encounter in spiritualist magazines. The author was an American called Fort with a bit of a reputation for that sort of thing.
roll your Occultism for me?
If the traditional medical world noticed anything, it doesn’t really show up in the press.
In April, a coalition of churches and philanthropists appeal for donations to support the city asylum, which has become oversubscribed - the problem seems to fade within a few months, though. In October, at a gala dinner, the director of the asylum thanks various benefactors, and mentions a large number of cases of mania which thankfully responded quickly to modern psychiatric treatment.
There also seems to have been a surge of artistic activity around that time. You remember attending quite a number of exhibitions and concerts in the summer, and being struck by the fashion for scenes of ‘Atlantis’, towering cities and surrealist scenes suggestive of oceanic depths and the timeless antiquity of the seas. You can easily dig out your notes of the time. Artists often mention being inspired by dreams, but it was unusually pronounced in the first few months of that year. What’s more, as you extend your search beyond your own local papers, you find a similar pattern elsewhere - even abroad.
@Suz asked for a die roll:
Stella’s mind is starting to feel a little dizzy. The more she researches, the weirder the connections that are forming in her head (and yes, perhaps she does need more sleep). There is one more thread she can’t help pulling though, and Stella will visit the public library on the off chance she can find anything relating to this author Fort that might tie things together.
Stella rolls 3d6: 2 + 1 + 1 = 4 against her Occultism
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wowza, nice roll
Fort began a career in journalism back in the late 1890s, in New York. An interest in outlandish stories grew into a serious pursuit of phenomena without scientific explanation, and he became a full-time writer on this topic, relocating to London a couple of years ago to access the British Museum archives. He’s published three books along these lines, which you easily get hold of - The Book of the Damned, New Lands, and a novel called The Outcast Manufacturers. The novel is nothing much to speak of, but the other two are rich collections of inexplicable events with criticisms of attempts at scientific rationalisation. He suggests - satirically, you think - the notion of a “Super-Sargasso Sea” where all lost things go, occasionally emerging again heedless of space or time.
Alongside these are occasional articles. One dated August 1925 reports what Fort describes as an ‘outbreak of somnambulistic art’ in the spring of 1925. He lists numerous artists, musicians and poets who claimed to have awoken from deep dreams to find themselves at work on elaborate compositions. In one case, a New England sculptor named Henry Wilcox, the dreamer had completed a detailed bas-relief with antique-seeming inscriptions before waking. The work (thought to be a representation of Poseidon) was exhibited to a mixed reception, and stolen from a gallery two months later. Fort pieces this together with other events around the globe:
“Here was a nocturnal suicide in London, where a lone sleeper had leaped from a window after a shocking cry. Here likewise a rambling letter to the editor of a paper in South America, where a fanatic deduces a dire future from visions he has seen. A despatch from California describes a theosophist colony as donning white robes en masse for some “glorious fulfilment” which never arrives, whilst items from India speak guardedly of serious native unrest toward the end of March. Voodoo orgies multiply in Hayti, and African outposts report ominous mutterings. American officers in the Philippines find certain tribes bothersome about this time, and New York policemen are mobbed by hysterical Levantines on the night of March 22–23. The west of Ireland, too, is full of wild rumour and legendry, and a fantastic painter named Ardois-Bonnot hangs a blasphemous “Dream Landscape” in the Paris spring salon of 1926.”
He finishes with a suggestion that the earthquake detected throughout the Pacific coasts around that time was accompanied by a ‘quake’ in the collective unconsciousness, causing a particular series of impressions to arise in the minds of people around the world, and particularly those already accustomed to drawing on subconscious influences.
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