Entry tags:

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(They said that this was a dream, but even in her most creative bouts, Margaery was not so certain she could conjure up such incredible things. For once, she did not have to feign her look of wonder as she moved through the streets. Her fingers slid over the edge of cars that she walked by, her other hand holding her dress up just barely, though she didn't seem too concerned with the outfit. At a glance, it'd be easy to think that this woman was dressed up in a queen's costume. The dress was certainly opulent enough for it, and it was even completed with a small antler crown with thorns. There was hardly anything costumed about her though. The mannerisms were too exact.

She did not know the politics of this land though, and for now, did not know where this society would rank someone in her position. It was burning at her mind worse than the strange technology all around her. But she knew better than to just go prancing up to whoever and asking if there was a ruler. Must be wiser than that. Margaery wasn't dense. She knew that even with the costumes, she was Other. Too many other people didn't seem as taken aback by the cars, the lamp posts. This was their culture. Their terrain.

But she could adapt. She always has.

Start your way up from the bottom. That was just fine with her. Go for something easy. Her eyes picked up on the fifth Jack-o-Lantern, and she thought that might be as good of a place as any. She plucked up the one nearest her own head size, careful of its candle, before turning to the nearest person, a look of simple delight bright on her face as she turned the pumpkin around to show off its furiously carved face.)

How endearing! What an angry-looking face. Do you suppose it's meant to be a mad god of some sort? Although, I must say, my grandmother has made far fiercer expressions upon being woken up too early in the morning.

(OOC: You may choose your own adventure! I decided to keep it simple for now. If you have any questions/want to make any requests, hit my up on clussy@plurk.)

Edited 2018-10-09 02:25 (UTC)

Ah--!

[Okay, so this place has him on edge already. And maybe he was trying to blend in with the decor. Hide in the background and watch people. But apparently, the all-black sweatshirt and pants didn't do anything to keep him from being obvious.]

[Because the woman just turns and holds up the angriest pumpkin he's ever seen in his life. His head sort of snaps back. His eyes go a little wide. It dawns on him a split-second later that this is just a pumpkin. It's not actually a threat, and the flicker of purple hidden by oversized sleeves fades immediately.]

... Yeah.

You can say that again. [He clears his throat.] Sorry. You uh. You surprised me.

Oh!

(Margaery was not exactly used to being the one to cause fright whenever she entered a room. That honor had been dedicated to her late husband. She's more surprised by his surprise than anything else, and amusement bubbles up rapidly. She can hardly help the small smile that flickers across her face, but she manages to school it into something kinder than outright glee.

She musn't come off as rude, after all. What kind of first impression would that be? Laughing at a grown man being startled...

Margaery lowers the pumpkin and gingerly sets it back onto the ground before raising to her feet.)

I apologize, ser. My mirth got the best of me and I suppose I got a little excited. I hope I didn't frighten you too badly. (She knows she didn't, but her kindness is as genuine as her desire to tease. Margaery folds her hands in front of her, looking briefly over the man. He was built much more like a knight than a commoner.)

I must admit, I've never seen anything like this place before. Let alone....(She looks back down at the pumpkins, both her brows raised now.)

Whatever those are. Is this a common tradition here? These little glowing faces?

[He holds his hands up, once she turns to face him. She's clearly amused. And he won't hold that against her. No harm done, it's just a pumpkin after all. He should have been more alert. More aware of what's going on around him.]

It's all right. I should have been paying more attention.

[Out of reflex, he holds his hand out to her, in greeting. His left hand, as usual. The right one tucked into the sleeve of his sweatshirt.]

I'm Shiro. [Just to prove it's totally fine, he's going to introduce himself.] They're jack-o-lanterns. Decorations for this time of year. People carve pumpkins to look like faces.

It seems like there's a festival going on. Rather hard to stay sharp during those.

(For most people, anyway. Margaery found they were some of the most telling times of any one location. When he sticks out his hand, she hesitates a second, staring at it as though it were a puzzle. She was well trained in politics and polite society of all the different kingdoms. Margaery knew how to be as polite in the North as she could be in the South and everywhere in between. But this? Way to throw her a curve ball, Shiro. It's instantly an unfamiliar custom, and she only really has ever had her hand taken by a man for one reason, so well.

She lightly places her hand over Shiro's in such a way that her knuckles faced up, complete with a pleasant and mildly expectant smile. Yeeeah buddy, she figures this is one of those kiss-queen's-knuckles situations. Sorry. It's not even her attempting to be rude. She's just...figuring this is the most accurate response.)

It is good to meet you, Shiro. (She dips herself forward a bit in a very slight bow. Not too much for a queen, but just enough for real respect.)

I'm Queen Margaery of House Tyrell. (Jack-O-Lanterns. Her nose crinkles at the funny name, but she finds that she likes it.)

How unique. They do have an uncanny resemblance. I hope they eat whatever was inside of the pumpkin though? (Seemed like a huge waste of food otherwise.)

I know, but I try to. Just in case.

[Especially in this place. More than ever in this place. It's more important here, with everything that's at stake. All the people he has to protect. Look after. His teammates, Keith's family. It's important to stay alert.]

[Which, you think, would help him in realizing not everyone knows what a handshake is. It's the bow that clues him in first. The bow, followed by her own introduction. No, he neglects to smooch her hand, but he does try a bow.]

[This would be easier if the sole royal he'd interacted with wasn't more of a diplomatic warrior than she was anything else.]

Sorry -- ma'am. Your highness. You're... the first human royalty I've ever met.

[Head of Voltron, recover your grace.] I apologize if I'm not sure what the custom is, either. But it's nice to meet you, regardless.

[NAILED IT.]

People usually dispose of it. But sometimes they save the seeds to roast.

(Frankly, Margaery would gladly take the bow over a kiss on her hand. Not her favorite custom, but it was one of many she accepted in stride. She removes her hand, looking satisfied just plenty with this interaction.

His stumbling is a bit sweet, she thinks, and it's hardly the first time someone's stumbled over titles. There were many peasants who didn't know if it was 'your lady' or 'your grace', so Margaery reaches her hand out to gently place it against his arm. She instantly notices that it's not a real arm, but her expression doesn't change for a second. She has seen much worse than lost limbs.)

Don't worry, ser. It would technically be 'your Grace' back in Westeros, but don't worry yourself over such titles. (His attempt at respect was plenty enough for Margaery.)

I think we're both in the dark here. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I do believe you were attempting a certain greeting with your hand just now? (She sticks hers out the way he had earlier, and she has to laugh a little at her own stumble.) We can be messy together. Is this how people from your land greet one another?

(You did so good, Shiro. Her smiling actually does seem more genuine now at least. #WhenAllYouWantIsRespect.)

The seeds? I'll have to try some then.

Edited 2018-10-09 07:17 (UTC)

[gansey is carrying a broom over one shoulder, a witch hat crooked on his head and a cup of hot cider in his other hand. he smiles at her exclamation.]

I think they were originally meant to ward off evil spirits, but mostly people just make them for Halloween now.

[it's only then he notices her clothing.]

So if that's not a costume, you're not from around here. Welcome to Deerington.

Evil spirits? My goodness. I should hope so with faces like this. (She turns the pumpkin back around and does her very best to imitate the face on it, snarling a bit before laughing. The pumpkin gets set back down and she gingerly steps around it, careful to keep her dress away from the flames.)

Halloween? I take it that's a holiday.

(She looks down at her dress and then back up at Gansey, smiling a little more sincerely than she had just moments ago.)

You're exactly right. It's not a costume. Thank you very much, ser. It's a very strange place. I've never seen so many oddities in my life!

[gansey laughs at this, partially because it's genuinely funny and partially because it seems like the reaction desired.]

It is. All Hallow's Eve, before All Saint's Day. No Christianity where you're from?

[that doesn't seem to surprise him, and his smile is warmer at her exclamation.]

It's a very strange place, even when you're familiar with most of the oddities. I'd be happy to explain what you don't recognize, though. And lord, where are my manners. I'm Gansey.

[he doesn't have any hands free, so he inclines his head instead, but it's a gesture of respect, not deference.]

(His reaction pleases her, and it shows in the slight twinkle in her eye. It didn't matter to her whether or not the laughter was genuine. Laughter was always a good sound.)

Oh, I'm afraid not. We have the Faith of the Seven, primarily. (She's assuming it's a religion that he's saying, anyway, if only because most holidays were religious from where she came from. That or it was to celebrate certain seasons.

There were other religions, but there was always a dominant religion it seemed and in Westeros, that was the Faith of the Seven.)

I'm afraid if you were to do that, we'd be here all night. I have absolutely no idea what those are, and I have a feeling that might not be the only thing in these lands that I'm ignorant of. (She points directly to one of the cars nearby.

His introduction is polite. Maybe not perfectly polished as some of the greetings she would receive back home, but that's the thing: she knows she's not home, so she isn't expecting perfect royal courtesies. Instead, Margaery gives Gansey a very well tailor bow of her own, an obviously well practiced maneuver on her part.)

It is a pleasure, Gansey. I'm Queen Margaery of House Tyrell. You are very kind to offer to teach me about this world.

Edited 2018-10-12 05:07 (UTC)

[Diarmuid wandered the streets himself with both curiosity and wariness, as seemed the most logical way to approach this; he'd spent a lot of time in his head when he was not awed by the new and wholly different world around him, especially concerning the safety of his everlasting soul. You know, normal things.

The young monk is distracted from those things by the extravagance of the dress the woman wears; not only is it the first time he's ever seen one (and not simply heard of it), it's the first time in his life the teen has been surrounded by girls instead of a bunch of older monks. Bless him. He startles at the pumpkin being shown suddenly at him before he finds himself eased by her humor —

And smiles a bit.]

... She sounds very fond of sleep, as am I.

Plenty of my brothers would make that face, when catching me napping in secret.

Oh, I'm sorry! (At his startling, she means, though there's enough mirth in her voice to suggest that she might not be completely sorry. After all, the poor boy didn't seem that badly frightened.

It's a bit of relief to hear the boy talk. Margaery's been wandering about for a while now, and everyone else spoke rather strangely to her. His dialect, while not identical, was at least a little more familiar to her. She lowers the pumpkin down by her waist and smiles a bit more genuinely.)

I must admit that I'm rather fond of sleep myself. Particularly when I have a very good dream. (She pauses a bit, eyes flickering about. Apparently this place was a dream too. In some ways, she hoped so. For if she was dreaming, then she couldn't possibly be dead. Right?

She laughs at that, full on.)

Oh I could imagine. Especially if they're- ah, do you mean flesh and blood brothers or brothers in arms? (She knew many kinds of brothers existed, and Margaery was never the sort to make sweeping assumptions.)

[What a lovely sound, a girl's laugh! So light and airy, and not at all the hoarse or gruff sound he was used to from most of the monks; he was the youngest, in their isolated little bubble, and they used to tease him for his own soft and high laughter when he was absolutely tickled by something. He looks taken aback and awed before he shakes his head to steady his thoughts.

Really, he promises he's better spoken than this.]

Brothers not in blood, but in religion — and in bond, in a sense.

I've known no other family but the monastery... Though I feel I know little other than the monastery, as of late. [He sheepishly ducks his cloaked head.] Do you — do you truly believe it? That we're bound to a dream, locked in our own heads? That we sleep in safety elsewhere?

[Diarmuid would not discredit the idea completely... but even a man of religious and superstitious upbringing can find some doubt in such a thing.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only