OCTOBER 2018 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to October’s Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: HALLOWEEN HORROR.

All Test Drive Memes contain at least one clue to the Deerington's upcoming in-game events for the month! Keep your eyes peeled! But...not literally.

Characters may die during TDMs, but you do not need to count it towards a game-canonical death unless you want to. Consider it a freebie. All TDMs can be considered game canon as TDMs introduce minor aspects about the world of Deerington that can be revisited by characters later on in the game. You may also use TDMs for your application writing sample as well as AC.

CW: Wet and rotting corpses/zombies, ghosts, violence, blood, knives, possessed dolls, options for underage drinking

Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

IT’S JUST A BUNCH OF HOCUS POCUS

It’s not Halloween if you don’t make a trip to a cheesy haunted house. At least, that’s what everyone in Deerington likes to say. The old Victorian stands at the top of a hill, rickety and in desperate need of a new paint job. The yard and porch have been decorated with what you’d expect for your typical haunted house; fake spider webs spread across the overhang, painted foam grave markers with cheesy names like “Here lies Richard Cranium” and “BEWARE!!” in creepy letter etchings. You can see the blinking of variously timed strobe lights in some windows and the shadow of what you’re pretty sure is a full-sized doll standing in the window, meant to look like someone staring out at you. The rocking chair on the porch near the door has a skeleton with a bowl of candy in his lap, and a sign is propped up against the wall next to him.

“ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. TOUCH NOTHING AND NOTHING WILL TOUCH YOU!”

Well that sounds promising.

The first few rooms you enter are appropriately cheesy. There’s the silly burst of air that you hear just before a plastic figuring pops out of a poorly constructed coffin, the clicking sound of the machinery inside echoing in the room when it starts to pull back and the lid closes once again. There’s fog machines trying to give the appropriately spooky air, stuffed sheets shaped to look like dead bodies wrapped up laying in piles on the floor with fake blood staining the white fabric, black lighting to show off words scribbled on doors like “TURN BACK NOW” and “SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES.” Nothing you haven’t seen before. It might be even worse than things you’ve seen before, over the top cheesy, boring enough to give a yawn. Each door seems to open on its own so you don’t even have to touch the handles.

As you make your way through the next automatic door, the room you walk into is different than those before it. It’s a regular children’s room. A bed against the wall near the window, a dresser in the corner, a small desk with a chair. Nothing out of the ordinary, save for the lights not being on, and the strange flickering light in the closet. You step towards it, figuring you’re in for another jump scare, but the door doesn’t open. Whether you’re naturally the curious sort or not, something in the back of your mind makes you want to open the door and see what’s on the inside.

If you fight it and walk towards the next automatic door, you’ll find you’ve walked out to the backyard of the house, those same foam decorations and a dozen or more jack o’ lanterns lighting your way on a path back to the town.

If you choose to pull the door open, however, it’ll take you into yet another room, with a flickering television playing nothing but static. Once you step past the doors of the closet, they slam shut behind you and whoever else dared to enter. The doors won’t lock no matter what you do, no matter how strong the person shaking the handles or pushing against the wood may be. You realize you broke the one rule; you’ve touched something. But can things now really touch you?

The only light source in the whole room is that television and it’s not lighting up much inside the room around it. If you squint when the TV is at its brightest setting, you can just make out another door. Your exit, you hope. But as you make your way towards the door, the flickering suddenly stops, the TV steadily bright, a low humming noise coming from the screen, and suddenly the door seems several more feet away from you than it was a second ago. Before you can reach the door, there’s the sound of trickling water from behind you. If you choose to look back, you’ll see something coming out from the screen - a girl with soaked clothing and pale, rotted skin. She emerges fully from the glass and starts to move towards you. You know it’s best to start running for that door. If you stay and try to fight, you’ll find that no regular weapons work on her, though special weapons and powers that are effective against spirits will definitely do the trick. For those who don’t have any of these at their disposal, however, there is one more hope besides just trying to run; two old school VHS tape sit on the table near by, a fancy machine between them that is meant to copy one to the other. Work as a team and have one distract her while the other records, and you’ll find that she disappears as quickly as she flickered on the screen and the TV will return to static.

Regardless of what you choose before carrying on, the next room you come to as the door slams and locks behind you is entirely different. Brightly lit and filled with what seems like hundreds of porcelain dolls, it’s almost hard to tell where there could possibly be another exit hidden among the massive shelves. You can start to wind your way through them, but before long, you start to hear the sound of running feet, the jingling of bells, the swish of satin, and most eerily the sounds of children giggling - but there’s nothing that sounds save about them. Some of the dolls you saw on the last shelf seem like they’ve moved and are sitting in the corner or laying in a new position on a new shelf. Sometimes you swear you can see their heads turn to watch you pass, but it has to be a trick of the light, doesn’t it?

That is until one of those dolls runs by you, brandishing something shiny in their hands - something sharp. A knife, you realize too late, as it tries to slice at your legs and knock you down. You can kick them away and they’ll go flying, and when the porcelain smashes, the doll will scream in agony. You notice there’s blood pouring from the hole that formed, spreading quickly across the ground. The dolls are easy to kill, but are they really just dolls? You can take your time to contemplate that later, as now you have to fight your way through the violent and armed toys to reach the door at the end of the maze of shelves. Hopefully you can get out without too many severe injuries.

When (or if) you do manage to get to the next room, you seem to have a chance to take a breath and tend to any wounds. It’s decorated like the room of a small cottage, a large pot over the fireplace that isn’t lit, and several jars full of (possibly rotting) food and herbs on the shelves. You see a book on the stand in the center, latched shut and covered in dust. You can open it, if you want, but remember the warning you ignored that got you in trouble in the first place. It’s probably better to carry on to the next room.

If you do choose to open the book, though, there will be eerily glowing text lining the pages, the light will seem to poor out and fill the room, and you’ll be transported back out in front of the house.

Those who continued through the door will find themselves out in the backyard. Just like for those who got out sooner, there are dozens of jack o lanterns, but the graves don’t look like they’re made of foam this time. They’re real stone, engraved with real names and real dates this time. And the ground underneath them seems to be moving, like someone’s trying to crawl out of there. Better not to wait around. Soon as you start to move down the path, you’ll start to hear the sounds of groans as the undead start to crawl from their own graves, pulling themselves up through the dirt, and determined to get to the only food source they see - you. The zombies seem like they’re never ending, coming from every inch of the yard, but at least they’re just like normal zombies - completely incapable of being killed unless you cut off the head. There are shovels lying next to a few graves if you need a quick weapon, but there’s also still always the option to run as fast as you can up the stone path to the front of the house and back towards the street.

When you do finally manage to get back to the front, there’s a momentary blinding flash of light, disorienting anyone near it for a few seconds. When it finally fades, any leftover zombies chasing you have disappeared and the house looks like the same, cheesy haunted house you walked up to in the first place. If for some reason you decide to go and explore the backyard again, the grass will be back to normal, and the graves will all be replaced by cheaply painted foam once more.

Was that all in your head? Who knows. But maybe it’s best to just get out of here.

WE DID THE MASH

Somehow the street lamps have all been converted to oil based flames, the Authority are in witch hats, and every where you go there is music that seems to be playing from faintly glowing bats hanging upside down from telephone wires. The bats will open their mouths in succession, seeming somehow capable of producing the sounds of instruments and singers alike of popular Halloween songs.

Yards are decorated as thoroughly as the front of stores. Maybe you haven't bothered to decorate, but your neighbor sure has! Fake gravestones are propped up in yards, giant fake spiders in trees, and no matter where you walk, the ground seems covered in thick, rolling fog from machines. Or at least you hope it's coming from machines. Hell, you can't even find it in yourself to be too worried! Everyone around you is having way too good of a time! And God, there is food everywhere! Might as well grab a bite while you're out, huh?

It's tempting to break loose and dance. Jack-O-Lanterns absolutely crowd the streets. There's more than you can even begin to count, and all of them are lit all throughout the night. Even if you accidentally trip over some, they don't seem to catch fire to anything or go out! Some neighbors have camp fires set up with marshmallows to roast, while others have...are those broomsticks? Well that's kinda cool, you guess. Correction: it's really cool since you can actually pick one up and take it for a fly! Make sure to attach a little lamp to the front though because God knows it's dangerous flying at night. The brooms only work if you wear the appropriately provided hats, of course, but you can keep both the broom and hat indefinitely and have a readily available means of flight in Deerington after! Be forewarned though: the brooms are as easily broken as regular brooms and the hats easily blown away in the wind.

TRICK OR TREATS

At any of the events, especially the nighttime partying, you can find any number of the following treats (and their potential side effects):

Donuts (Will make you deliriously happy. Everything is amazing to you. May cause a lot of affection. A lot of affection.)
Candy Apples (You will eagerly tell someone everything you like about them. Talk about a sweet tooth.)
Candy Corn (Will make you extremely sad. Like god, you'll be wondering why you hate yourself so much.)
Pumpkin Spice Lattes (Causes suspicious amounts of obedience and a desire to do what you're told.)
Hot Chocolate (Can provide some minor healing. Best stuff to drink with a common cold!)
Hot or Cold Apple Cider (Nothing will happen. It's just really good.)
Alcoholic Cider (This isn't your grandma's apple cider. This stuff will knock you on your ass. Anyone who drinks this will get wasted regardless of whether or not they are immune to alcohol or even ingest regular food. It only takes one or two before you start to get tipsy, but any more than that and you'll be well on your way to drunk. Please drink responsibly. We don't need any FUIs.)

Character Arrival

You can read how all characters arrive in Deerington here.

There is not a collective "all these characters showed up at the exact same moment" occurrence in Deerington. Since characters fall asleep, die, or pass out at various times throughout all their worlds, it wouldn't make too much sense if they arrived in game all at the exact same time. There should be some discrepancy between character arrival, whether by a couple minutes, hours, or even days up to a week.

The players are entirely in control of how/when they want to play their characters arriving in Deerington. For TDMs, you can play it like your character has just arrived and that can be maintained as your game canon, or you can wait until game events for that moment. Or you don't need to acknowledge it at all. The flexibility for character allows a bit more of an organic feel to the character arrival situation, so please play it to whatever feels right for you.

If you are interested in having an "arrival" introduction for one of your TDM prompts, you are more than welcome to explore that option.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Compliments on ones appearance are unusual, few and far between once one is a grown man. He can not pretend that he isn't surprised by such comments either, as they come completely out of the blue and from an utter stranger, in such a strange place.

The Commodore turns on his heel, but his hand dies not yet stray to the hilt of his sword. He has seen so many marvels but none yet that had offered to harm him. And this man in his vaguely Oriental costume does not threaten him. In fact, James believes the man may well be drunk.

One would have to be drunk, to risk calling another man dashing in a public place such as this.

He leans back as the other man leans in, eyebrows raising. "Of course it is a wig."

It's a point of pride. Only Captains and above are required to wear a wig, only Commodores and Admirals must wear one on a daily basis.

Dorian doesn't seem to notice when the other leans away from him, tipping his head another way before finally relaxing back on his heels.

"Well, I don't know many men that wear wigs, unless you're from Orlais, but then you'd be wearing some kind of fancy looking mask to cover your face." He motions to someone who walks by in a mask.

"Or something like that I guess..." He seems transfixed by the people in costume for a moment but then turns back to James.

"Either way, better without the mask. Though... why white? you don't look that old. Your eyebrows are dark, i take it you're naturally brunette. Why not a wig to match? You'd probably look more handsome with your natural color." He's considering the style and how maybe it's too difficult to get those curls on the sides of his head just right or to stay in place with his real hair.

"I do like the whole ensamble though...quite ornate and official. It's impressive."

It's really quite the barrage of questions, all of which are varying degrees of improper going all the way to impossibly rude. But he has been to India, where their ways are quite unlike those he's used to, but the way this man speaks has no hint of India, despite the richer colour of his skin, and the facial hair, which as James understands it is very much in favor with the Rajas of the various principalities.

James can not help the frown, he can't help as it grows deeper as the man continues. He is being assessed, and assessed on the mode of his dress, of all things! He has always followed the rules on an officer's appearance to the letter, despite being stationed in the Caribbean, where most would expect not to wear the heavy wool frock-coat or the linen shirt on all but ceremonial occasions. James wears it daily, along with the woolen stockings, the waistcoat, the wig and the hat, as the directives dictate.

"Sir, where I am from such questions would be considered impolite even to a close associate. They are not questions to ask of a stranger." He says, rather more hotly than he intends, but it is done now. "This is the uniform of a Commodore of His Majesty's Britannic Navy. I wear it with pride. I would ask you to show it the respect it deserves."

Dorian's brows loft at the somewhat heated response, warning him he's being rude despite how he was originally trying to pay the other a compliment. So he had been a little overly curious, he never really paid too much attention to what is proper, even when he was sober. He might know better, he knows how to conduct himself and use etiquette but it's somewhat harder to do in a realm you don't know with people being pulled from worlds he's never been too. At that point, and after several cups of cider, proper etiquette goes out the window.

"Well, Commodore, where I'm from I am an Altus, the son of a Magister and of a higher standing than some military man, regardless of your title. But I'm not demanding respect for something you couldn't possibly know." All of this comes evenly, it's a rebuke but not meant to start a fight.

"Besides, I had thought, like most people you see around you that you were simply wearing a festive costume. I had not realized it was an official uniform until you began to frown at me. I was trying to pay you a compliment."

James knows enough Latin to understand what the strange man before him means by Altus, he means exalted one. And he may well be such a thing, his manner of speaking may not be Home Counties, but the accent certain is, crisp and proper, respectable. As is the rather... prideful way the man boasts of his standing.

"Sir," He replies, with a slight bow. "My apologies. No offence was meant, I assure you." This place... has him somewhat on edge, basic manners seem to slip from his grasp. But he at least has a better handle on himself now, and he has no desire to counter with the fact that he is both the son of a gentleman and an officer. There seems to be little point in continuing such one-upmanship.

"Thank you. But I... this festivity seems to be local, from what I have gathered. Certainly, I have never heard of such a thing myself. More importantly, I was attempting to find a way to leave."

Dorian sighs and accepts the apology but with a little flutter of his hand as if brushing away an annoying fly he'll dismiss it.

"None taken." He glances around at everything as he speaks.

"Our titles and standing really don't mean much here anyway. This isn't our world. Besides, I've fought beside military men like yourself, we aren't so different." He still thinks himself better in a lot of ways, that's sort of bred into him, but he also realizes how important a man with a sword and shield is to a mage. How a Commodore, or a Knight Commander, are to be respected for their skill and all they do to keep them all safe.

"And clearly, you and I have much the same goals or knowledge of any of this."

The gesture seem far too dismissive for James' tastes, rather than accepting of the apology. But clearly they have veery different ways and he is not about to continue the vicious cycle of offending each other though misunderstanding. What is more important is that he work put how to get out of here.

"No, I do not believe we are, sir." They are clearly proud enough men, used to being right and used to being obeyed. But James can work with those he likes as well as he works with those he does not, and even more so if they have the same goal.

"How long have you been stranded here? Forgive me, I did not think to ask."

He could idly point out that they are most different in their methods for battle, of that he's almost positive. The Commodore seems like the type to wield a sword into a fight. Dorian certainly can't see hm flinging spells on a battle field, but then, he can't be 100% positive. After all, he's finding many a different sort of person from all different worlds. Anything is possible he supposes. It IS a collective dream world after all.

"A few hours, at least? I'm afraid I've just arrived." A glance to the other, "And you?"