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October 2018 Test Drive Meme

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.

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Well, it's a pleasure to meet you then, Blake.

[The fact that he seems more playful than someone who causes too much trouble isn't entirely lost on her. But fact is that she knows troublemakers come in all shapes and sizes-- was there ever a worse troublemaker than Steve Rogers? So she's holding off on making any determinations too quickly. Not that such careful thoughts last for long.

She eats the rest of her donut, and he was right about the effects. Somehow, standing here by the table of treats, with people on brooms and wearing witches hats and everything else, it just seems like a good thing, like maybe the most pleasing turn of events there's been in a very long time. Despite the strange dream that hadn't seemed entirely like a dream, this place somehow felt more like a fresh start than a kidnapping in the moment.

She steps in a little closer as she smiles, bright and pleased.] I love coffee. I'll admit to being a bit of an addict back home.

[Because who needed sleep?]

[ Funny you should mention it because Blake actually doesn't need sleep right now. Or, more accurately, he can't sleep and needs it desperately, but he's coping. That's one of those Deerington things, unfortunately, and there's really nothing to be done for it besides bearing it. ]

Just so happens I work at the coffee shop. How 'bout I made you a... cappuccino?

[ Just a guess, mostly because he thinks cappuccinos — real cappuccinos — are a bit more sophisticated than lattes. (But also, watch as he... grabs another donut. For the road. Just in case.) ]

[Natasha understands that. Isn't like she's been sleeping particularly well since putting herself on a global most-wanted list. Isn't like she sleeps particularly well to begin with. So Deerington might not have worked its particular brand of horror on her just yet, but she knows what it means to be coping without it.]

Oh really? I think that might make you my new favorite people.

[She doesn't get cappuccinos at Starbucks because they don't make them right, but Blake has the look of someone that knows what he's talking about. Or maybe it's just her particularly pleasant outlook at the moment that has her so optimistic. So he grabs another donut, and she'll just hook her arm with his, smiling up at him with a lift of one slender eyebrow.]

Well then, lead on.

It's not far, at least.

[ It's really only the donuts that stop him from questioning the contact, but he would have been easy enough to fall into it. Back in Gotham, he'd done some "training" in surviving polite society (a ridiculous notion for a guy who spent most of his time on the streets in one capacity or another) so at least he knows how to hold himself. ]

Someone told me the hot chocolate's got healin' properties. Pretty awesome, right? Nothing everything in this place is awful.

[ He smiles mellowly and takes a bite of the additional donut, suddenly not so concerned about those extra calories. ]

Well, that's good to hear.

[If not for the donuts, Natasha would not be quite so touchy either. She was all but created to exist in polite spaces with crystal chandeliers and silk-satin tuxes, but it wasn't a sort of gesture she typically made with people she didn't know well unless she was playing that part.

But right now, well- she's just having a really great time, and he's offering her cappuccinos, and the contact seems pleasant more than hitting those walls she uses to keep people at a distance.]

Healing properties? I'll definitely keep that in mind if I get into any scrapes.

[As if that might be a concern for a charming redhead. She's not quite sure what to make of this food that seems to have magic properties, or at least ones that she's used to being from more familiar sources. But she stays close to his side as they walk, letting him lead toward the coffee shop.

She does, however, make a point of mapping the directions they're taking, even if it's with much less intention than usually, some habits can't be overwritten just by some very potent happy pills.]

It's bound to here.

[ Said with kind of a half-full mouth, how rude. But Blake's just so damn excited to disclose some information about this place, he can't help himself. ]

Just sorta happens sometimes. Found myself fightin' a twin I didn't know I had in a cornfield filled with killer kids. [ He gestures to the shoulder, that wound from before. ] S'where I got this.

[ He laughs, like that's something funny to chat about, but it's not. It's really not. Even if it feels like every day is like this now. ]

But you know what? The kids were adorable — like suuuper cute— [ He has a soft spot. ] and that's 'bout all I remember thinkin' before stabbin' the shit outta the other dude.

[Somewhere in Deerington, Arthur sneezes into his coffee. Gross.]

[She can't resist the chuckle as he talks with a mouth half-full, and really, the suggestion that scrapes and the like are bound to happen doesn't seem to even phase her. And then he's talking about fighting his twin, but it's the line about killer kids that catches her, having some familiarity with the concept.]

Well, glad you made it out in one piece, at least. How bad's your shoulder?

[She isn't flustered by any of what he's telling her, though there's a certain sharpness to her gaze. Doesn't seem surprised by the fact that he laughs about it. She can remember the feeling. You laugh when you can't do anything else, though the cast of his tone seems more like a joke.]

Sometimes that's the idea. Pick the cute ones so that the enemy hesitates. No one wants to kill a child.

[She seems notably unbothered by the fact that he'd just essentially admitted to murder.]

Oh, no, that's so sad... definitely, no one's gonna wanna do that.

[ John doesn't sound sad because those donuts are messing with his brain, but you'd see an entirely different man otherwise. Talk about upsetting. Killing kids (and kids that kill) pretty much hit his saddened rager button.

He's at the door of the bakery, and since the power's been out most nights (and occasionally powered in the day by residents), it's all locked up. John has a key, though, being a part-time barista.

There's a roll of his shoulder to show his mobility — tight and clearly not painless — but it would answer her question. ]

So, you gotta see this cool little production. It's ridiculous what I gotta do to get this goin', but the contraption's impressive. Like a homemade generator hooked to this—

Well, I'll just show you, c'mon.

[ He waves her in with the last of his donut, immediately heading for behind the bar. ]

It is, isn't it?

[She laughs, because somehow, something about the way he says that's so sad strikes her as infinitely amusing. And somehow the way the threads come close to her own childhood don't really seem to cut, thanks to whatever is in those donuts.

She notes the way he moves, and the part of her that's used to dealing with soldiers frequently too proud to use a goddamn ice pack makes her want to make sure he's taking care of it. But under the circumstances, it's a little too easy to let her focus switch to the subject of some contraption that he's going to show her.]

Well, I can't wait. Sounds like something special.

[Her smile is a little lop-sided, bright and interested, curious to see what it is. He waves her in, and she steps inside. A sway of her hips, blue eyes quickly taking in her surroundings. She's unabashedly happy but that doesn't make her any less of the sort of person that tracks all the exit and entry points, figures out what sort of things she could use in a fight if it came down to it.

That sort of combat sense, subtle paranoia was ingrained.]

[ It's a mental note that he makes on the disturbing topics they just gloss over (glaze over?) for now, but he allows them to move on because that the bend of the conversation with the help of the donuts, anyway.

Taking up a strange and hefty device, he connects some plugs and power inputs. It's truly a contraption that he looks like he can barely lift, with a flywheel, a belt, a foot pedal. And that's how it works, the foot pedal from some industrial device driving forward a gear — a quiet tictictictictictictic — which is then run through a pulley system to turn the flywheel that's generating the magnetic field that's being gathered in the battery that's charging the coffee station and a single table lamp near the espresso machine— ]

People're serious 'bout their espresso drinks, lemme tell you.

[ John, too, but at least he's got good humor about it, right? ]

And I'm not even gonna mention how the milk refrigeration's s'posed to work in a blackout, just give you some good, shelf-stable powdered milk in some sanitized-with-fire agua...

[ Okay, so when he says he's going to make someone a cup of coffee, he means it, apparently. ]

[Natasha slides into a seat at the bar, and settles in to watch as he works. It certainly is a contraption. It makes her think of Tony Stark, a little bit, just in the sense of it striking her as the sort of thing that could have been built by the sort of man that built a robot suit in the Afghanistan desert.

It's impressive, makes her lips twitch as she watches. And he might notice the way that her eyes rest on the different pieces, like she's putting together how it works. She's smarter than people give her credit for, than she usually admits to.]

Well, that's good. I'm not sure I could handle this place if there wasn't espresso drinks to be had.

[There's a wry sound that slips from her lips as he talks about shelf-stable powdered milk, because well. Natasha is a woman that had lived through food shortages, she knows what is is to not have milk.]

Sounds good. Powdered milk isn't too bad, but the powdered eggs I'd avoid.

[She says it like the punchline to a joke, still enjoying that pleasant high of happiness and easy affection.]

[ Hell, as far as Blake knows, maybe the machine was made by Tony Stark. The guy had been around, made an arm for Bucky Barnes, and Blake knew of him by reputation, had even met him once before in Wonderland, but he couldn't spot Stark's tech by eye. (But he knows a guy, at least, that would be able to say so.) ]

Hey, they're not so bad. [ Blake, no. ] Just 'cause the donuts say so. [ Better. He's still grinning, though, as he continues to push that pedal, almost like he's working the blower in a forge. The rest — the coffee part and mixing the milk powder — is rote, either from kitchen prep at the orphanage (the milk, so much milk), or from the many hours John had spent as a barista since his arrival.

Still, this is going to take a while. ]

So, what'd you do back home, Natasha?

[Natasha would not put it past Tony Stark to have built a small generator just so he could get his espresso fix. That said, whoever its designer was, she was quite grateful for the effort. Really, if it was Stark tech, she could probably figure it out if she got a bit handsy with it, and not just because Tony had a habit of writing his name on everything.]

Well, alright. I'll give you that the donuts are good. [She almost regrets not having shared his foresight of swiping some more snacks to bring with her. But oh well. Instead, she just watches him, her chin cradled in her hands as she leans against the bar. As much as she likes her coffee, she can be a patient woman.

At the question, she shrugs her shoulders and hums softly.] Well, whatever I had to, I suppose. I used to be a ballerina.

[And it doesn't even sound bittersweet.]

[ That catches him by surprise and he glances up at her, a little hint of sly smile on his face. He'd thought she carried herself particularly, but he hadn't been able to pinpoint exactly why. That would make sense, wouldn't it? ]

Neat. The ballerina thing, I mean. The rest sounds kinda elusive.

[ He's usually a bit more tactful about stuff like that, but in this case, he's apparently not seeing it as a bad thing. ]

You're not the only one. Seems like every other person I meet's like that. It's cute, y'know? We're all so mysterious to each other.

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